CAT IN THE SACK
Jan Muhammad Khan,
the way is not easy.
The soul has brush with it
in the empty gunny sack;
even soft jute spikes into it.
Moonlight goes with a clink, falling, like coins,
in the yellow bowls ^ of eyes;
and in the body this night is what spreads.
Who would now strike a dumb fire on your bare back? Who would fan the flame? Who would make the effort for life's blood to flower?
My fiery claws are numb.
Today the way is not easy.
This path will break off soon
to fall in a muddy pond.
I must then embrace the emptiness
in my coffin and go to sleep,
become one with the water.
But you -- you still have far to go,
have to walk on in your sleep,
in that invisible sack,
which you do not see.
Jan Muhammad Khan, the way is not easy.
(Tr. Alamgir Hashmi) 46