suffer from linguistic ambiguity. The issues are neatly defined and clearly verbalized. The basic philosophic premise of his poetry is that man is fascinated and bewildered by the creation of the universe and of mankind. The purpose of this creation has always eluded man, either because there isn't any specific purpose to it, or if there is, then, human intelligence is not capable of understanding and defining it. There is in man a continually nagging consciousness of his limitations, of his inability to arrive at the meaning of creation. Sometimes, simply to escape the frustration caused by this consciousness, man embraces the answers given by the so-called sages, religious teachers, the philosophers or the saints. The awaremess of one's limitations, however, does not end one's search for answers: in fact, it entraps one in circles, gyrations, or in an endless circuitous exploration. The 'circle' is not only the central image of the book and part of its title, it is also used as a structural device. Strictly speaking, a poem by Abrar-ul-Hasan does not end where it seems to end; its thought is carried forward into the next poem. The internal movement of the poem itself seems circular, for it revolves around the same idea or issue and ends without a final resolution. No crescendo, or shrill, surprisingly dramatic comment is offered at the close of the poem. The poem ends, to use Eliot's phrase, "not with a bang but a whimper." The "whimper" here should not be taken as a slighting word but as an aspect of the strategy of poetic closure in Abrar-ul-Hasan's poetry. Since the circles can only ensnare and torment man, perhaps it is better, Abrar-ul-Hasan suggests, that one moves in a linear fashion. Unlike the circle, the line at least gives one a sense of clear progression and forward movement. A line is dynamic and rejects stasis. However, ultimately, not even the linear approach can offer any guarantee of correct answers: the movement of the line is interminable, and no one can predict where it will end. All one can hope for is some sort of awakening at the end of its sojourn. In "D'air'e k'a fazib" ("Agony of the Circle") he says: J <^j u 4^ ^L> ^ ^J ^J^ J-^ j^^.Ji u^j^ ^ u-^J ^^ 1^1^^ ^ u/j ^> ^ u k; ^ L ^ - ^J-^ C^^-1^1 -^^^u^1— [Editor's translation: "No one knows where the line will stop, if it keeps moving.//Beyond the boundaries of the earth?//At the outer limits of space?//If the line keeps moving onward, life may perhaps return to Time's frozen veins,//perhaps an answer may appear, dawn-like, over the cover of darkness. . . ."] Man reacts in various ways to the awareness of his limitations: he becomes a victim of despair at being unable to reach "the heaven of certainty"; he escapes into an irrational worship of the past; he begins to dream Utopian dreams, or he begins to suffer from a sense of alienation from his surroundings. None o of these reactions is wholesome or fully welcome. The only real 108