Annual of Urdu Studies, v. 4, 1984 p. 78.

Graphics file for this page
Zahida Zaidi


Translated by C. M. Nairn


Burn the green sward of conviction;

pluck the buds of gay desires. Ask fierce winds to scatter

the petals of laughing dreams. Smash passion's ardent cup;

spill the heady wine of hope's deceit. Then, from Time's hands, take the cup brimming with life's poison, and drink. In this fashion die each day, and each day continue to live.


When morning cast its glittering net,

half-unseen dreams hid themselves

in the ebb of night. And half-felt feelings,

wrapped in ragged wounds,

came out on grief square,

beggars led by scared hopes.

Half worked-out thoughts, parched, exhausted,

covered with an ambiguous dust,

dragged themselves down harsh streets.

And dealers in half-made humankind

primly pulled up their shutters of half-vision,

then started haggling over the price

of not quite so perfect values.


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