The sound of winter rain
takes you centuries away
While traversing the ancestral paths
the footfall cannot be heard
The time, keeps pushing on the Earth
but the soil doesn’t leave its place, from
one abode to another, and then another
Dumpers and machines get tired
but the voids created by the bygone times
cannot be filled
The color of the reddish terracotta is as deep as
that of civilizations
and much harder than the bricks in the patio
The poetry composed by the trees and the harvests
can only be read
by the breeze, that passes silently through
the doors, windows, niches and hearts,
or by the birds with colorful beaks and wings
that keep mum in the thick forests of the night
to start chirping with the break of dawn,
pecking and mating all the day long
or hatching the eggs in the nests and the hollows,
or by something like termite
that, hissing deep inside
licks away even the quiet, spread over the ages and the words
And the children, listening to the lullaby of darkness
shut their eyes, falsely
and the god and the father
both are always alone
always awake, even in an unseen snooze
The footfall of the unseen tears
resonates without being heard
and the water remains dripping silently
over the panes of the shut window
and it keeps on raining for long, far and wide
and a river full of agony
remains flowing towards the ocean of eternity
and the times keep passing on
Near the fireplace
on the rocking chair
someone falls asleep, rocking to and fro!
Original poem in Urdu by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
English translation by Kamran Awan
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