A Poem by Abdul Ghani Khan

[H2O3C4Nitrogen]

Hell


It is the measure of man’s eye -
The black and the white;

The fancy of man’s tongue -
Both milkweed and honey.

The tapping of my fingertips,
A soft arm and smooth cheek -

These songs of my spirit,
Flowery and sweet.

My God has made this
Colorful wine from water;

For some a sea of wine
Is a droplet of zamzam;

For some a sea of zamzam
Is a glum evening of sorrow;

To some a small white candle
Stands bright as the moon;

Some hear the message of Gabriel
From the red lips of the beloved.

One crown turns crimson with blood;
Some throne blackened by night;

One found it on the cross;
The other on a red silken pillow;

Some discover, like Moses,
In a lifeless idol the face of the beloved -

One turns it into dread and tears,
The other into beauty and spirit.

Some from a flower, from a child’s face,
Create the lips of love;

Some find it by the narcissus,
Some among thorny bushes.

Happy the man who went
Laughing to the lap of his love -

Some tear from the bridal dress
A coffin for the beloved.

Lord! Lord! My lord!
I’m maddened by reflections -

How can I curse and tyrannize
The spring and crimson flowers.

How can I lend the Mullah an ear
And forget the lark and bulbul;

How upon your grace and light
Can I cast the veil of ugliness!

Turn the white morning of laughter
To a dark eve and tomb?

Turn man’s despair to
The red joy of afterlife?

From the fakir’s intrepidity
Create a king’s drunkenness?

From the fire and might of hell
Delineate your grace?

How can I believe you made
This world and the skies for this -

When Khayyam is driven by force
To the pilgrimage of ka’aba?

This heart so full of spirits was
Made just to harbor doubts?

Were beauty and love spun out
As a tale of retribution?

You made out of your grace
Beauty and doting;

The shade of your under-plumes
Is soft and colorful at each sundown.

You laughed that the rose’s color
Was borne away on a butterfly’s wing;

In your hand, Khayyam’s goblet
Took away abandon and love.

How do I bother Ghani with
The end and the judgment day?

Imbue spite in a bulbul’s heart
For springtime and flowers?

How can I lay the shawl of a vassal
On the fair face of Laila?

Fulfill the longing of a Negro
With the presence of a fairy?

How can I turn over to the hand
Of the beloved the dagger of betrayal?

How can I sink in a dark well
The secret of enamored eyes?

How can I submerge a beautiful world
In a single drop of night;

How can I turn the glow
Of candlelight to ashes!


Lord! Lord! My lord!
I’m maddened by reflections

How can I curse and tyrannize
The spring and crimson flowers!

.....................................



Da Adam de Nazar tul de
ke da tor de,ka da speen
De Adam de jabe khayal de
De soplma yo angabeen
......
Nu sanga omanum th jor ku
da jahan ao asmaan dy la
chi khayyam rawan pa zor ki
tawafonu la ka'abi la

Raba Raba zama Raba
Liwany shum pa fikrono



Abdul Ghani Khan

---------- Post added at 03:34 AM ---------- Previous post was at 03:33 AM ----------

YouTube - Da Adam Nazar Tool Day Ghani Khan

 

[H2O3C4Nitrogen]

Heaven And Earth

Would there be elation and youth, the beloved and a chalice full;
Several flowers and a few friends in a mellow evening.
Passion be light and fire, and the heart a flaming tandoor;
I would gladly give up your heavens to embrace such a life.
I’d far prefer this gain because no color is at rest;
Each moment, each hue of life, is your time’s helpless slave;
And the mullah says, in paradise, time would be my slave –
If he were somehow undone, all my troubles would end.
If I find eternal youth, it would become a curse;
I cherish it now as its beauty is soon consumed.
An eternally full moon, an eternal sweet sixteen,
Eternal youth, a river of wine, is it a reward or hell?
I’d weep after this world, and yearn for the night’s crescent,
And remember everyday, the thin mist of eventide.
Sick of faithful houris, I’d seek a fickle beloved;
Man is a hunter by nature, and revels in hunting.
I would fast on revelry’s riverside,
And sulk after the cupbearer’s half-full chalice.
Anything eternal becomes a curse and a catastrophe;
It suits only you, this eternal beginning and end.
Man seeks in each new palace a new beloved;
Seeks red flowers in a wasteland, seeks lighting at night;
He’s lost in unending darkness, and blinded by perpetual light;
He is the child of change and cannot stay the same.
If you took him to heaven, this nature and this being,
He’ll soon be searing and weeping with sore eyes.
O lord of great bestowal, turn this world into heaven!
The formula is simple, comprising these three things –
As I’ve said before, a beloved, youth, and a chalice,
So that my silly head is amused from time to time;
And after this worldly death, endow me to the Mullah,
If the wretch would be appeased by mere dreams of houris.
Give me a houri here – lively, full, and fair –
A loving white candle, which burns and flames
In her glance myriad colors; in her nature myriad moods;
With manners such as spring – now sunshine, now rain;
Would she be under one skin, a harem of women;
Now brimming and vivacious, now quiet and retiring;
And in my tired heart, kindle restive flames,
Blazing like fire and dancing like a rill,
And with one impatient glance, intoxicate me so
As to leave everyone amazed and the cupbearer envious.
In place of those thousands give me one here;
Turn my eternal youth to a few years’ rejoicing;
If you cannot do this, lord, keep your fat houris;
I neither need them there nor miss them here.
Those fat and fair ones who yield without entreaty;
Wide and hungry eyes, wallowing in malmal.
Lord! My beloved lord! Just grant this one prayer,
Or else, your Ghani would pine away in love.

 

[Pukhtoon]

Ghan Khan BaBa