THE BOY On the hills near eastern villages, Sometimes in the mango orchards, sometimes on the dykes, Sometimes in the lanes, sometimes on the lakes, Sometimes midst the merriment of half-clad youngsters, At dawning, dusk, in the darkness of night, Sometimes at fairs, among the mimers, Or lost on quiet bypaths chasing butterflies Or stealing towards the nests of little birds, Barefoot, no matter what the weather, Out of school, in deserted houses, ^ Sometimes laughing in a group of pretty girls, Sometimes restless like a whirlwind, In dreams, floating in the air, flying like a cloud, Swinging in the trees like the birds, I see a boy, wandering, carefree, independent As the flowing water of a mountain stream. This nuisance acts like my shadow, Dogging my every step, pursuing me no matter where I go, As if I had escaped from prison. And he asks me: Are you really Akhtar-ul-Iman? I acknowledge the blessing of almighty God: I admit that He has laid down this earth Like a vast bed of velvet and brocade; I admit that the tent of the skies is His benison; He ordered moon and sun and stars in space; He brought forth rivers by splitting mountains; He created me from dust, and gave me dominion over the earth; Filled oceans with pearls and mines with rubies; Filled the air with bewitching bouquets; He is the Master, Mighty, Singular, Wise; He separates light from darkness, and the sheep from the goats; He has given splendour to the greedy, and adversity to me; 18