Poems: The Season of Existence
Originally
written in Balochi by: Chandan Sach
Translated
into English by: Uzair Mehr
1. The Quest
Let’s come
down to the earth from the sky again today
And once come
to our hearts like angles
What a
desolation is reflecting in the streets
What a
despondency spreading on the overhead of thoughts’ region
There’s no
one to condole on his own death and inflame lights
Eras elapsed
I supported
my own funeral
There’s a
problem that the reason of my existence sets me free
Let’s come
down to the earth from the sky again today
Do the
memories of separation play in the figure of a bird?
Be an ember
I will kiss your sanguine lips
The water
too watches the eyes of thirst
The pain too
feels the pains of inside
Ah world,
your courses are inexplicable
You have
interpreted everything as to your inclination
I set out
that the death might recognize me one day
Not asking
that why my eyes are soiled
Not thinking
that why trees come in my dreams
Just came
out of the obsessions of my bygone epoch
Now I am
amazed that why the paths have become stranger
No matter
how I think I can’t sleep now
I came down
to my kindred earth from the sky
And suckled
the fingers of a foregone epoch’s beauty
2. The Waiting
I don’t know
what kind of tale it is
That starts
and doesn’t reach to an end
It’s said
that,
The war has
changed its colors now
If it’s so,
Then these
birds will commit suicide
God forbids!
If it is the
case,
Neither the
fire will be aflame in this jungle
Nor the
water will change color
3. The End
From where will
this war begin
From the
thirsty picture of your foot or from the skirt of your embroidered dress
Or from the
back of your oceanic eyes’ inebriating shade
In the
battlefield of these heeds
Serenity
rebukes me
Hey Chandan! ~
For whose
quest are you carrying these bags on your back?
What is in the books?
Why don’t
you return to the dreamworld?
I take these
questions in my heart and wander
Sometimes I
cry carrying the sights in the palm that the world is an orphanage
Sometimes I
light cigarettes in the eyes of an ashtray
Sometimes I
play with the stale dreams of my bygone age
Sometimes I
laugh with the walls to throttle the wrinkles of my forehead
And see
inside the cupboard
The hungry
mind opens up the door of salutations
Sometimes I ponder
to take my obsessions into the streets of subjugation
And set the
books on fire for the holly fella won’t be back now in this room
Sometimes I
cover the pass of the door and utter why your eyes are in waiting of this path
Sometimes I
hold the hand of the wind and say come little closer for a while for I want to
kiss your fragile fingers
Likewise, I
pass thousands of years in sleeplessness
And impatiently
come to sit under the shade of Neem tree of your porch again
4. The Character
Oh life, you should have taken me to a shrine
In the evenings of Thursday
I would get together with ants
Eat some biscuits and sweets
Or imbibe blood
Or sing a laudation with birds coming from unforeseen places
We love the Godhood of the God
We cherish the separation of ourselves
We have nothing to do with the world
We have seen the end; it’s night
How long the night will accommodate the tales of peace in the
lap of its spirit
Will the confined sobbing get a grave in their fate or not?
In the intention of a bypast desire’s pale lips
In which hope a person should knot the lines of his hands?
Our fate has been written above eternally
Oh life, you should have taken me to a shrine
For I would see what will the widows do there?
How will an unmarried girl pray if she’s alone?
How will the love sicks embrace the flags?
In which language the old crows will talk
In which rapture the black snakes pass coiled
Why the eyes of sevenfold scorpions are half opened?
Oh life,
How wonderful it would be if the sun and stars gather in a
shrine
I was set free from my thirst merely in the quest of these
secrets
Oh life,
It’s not good to chew these raw fleshes
Now take and accommodate me to a grave beside a shrine
I am fed up of seeing the sky
It’s a time of despondency
The infecund voices are downcast
5. The Traveler
It’s your
venomous desire
That
circulates in the green veins of my body
The lust of
my thirst freezes
Gropes my
own bosom
The spirit
of my eyes inundates
The gloomy
dreams are uninterpretable
~ Bilqis is
stayed put in the shade of ~ Solomon’s fort
She is desirous
She sees the
thin lines of her hands
Bites her
pale nails
It’s your
venomous desire
A mum angel
plays in front of my cause
Like an old
house stricken by a storm
I am like
that
I prostrate
the juvenile desires of my solitude
I don’t know
from where an errant smile comes in memory
A flock of
cranes of your sight changes the turns of acquainted flights
As a cloud
absorbs water from the sea and rises
And heedlessly
moves over the mountains
It’s your
venomous desire
That
circulates in the green veins of my body
I fan the
embers
And bring
down myself into the spirit of a canvas
I confer my
afflicted soul to the body of a tree
It’s a long
tale of ages
Every
character of a story doesn’t recognize himself and talks
6. In The Times
of Uncertainty
Oh heart, wrapping
up the helpless dreams in which regions will you go
Life is
bordered everywhere now
And fires
deluged the earth
The eyes of
the messenger birds of this world have turned old
The wings of
hope are broken
What will
remain by chasing an unacquainted cause?
Don’t you
know that in which dreamworld the beauty has taken ~ Cleopatra
The love has
shaped the war history of frantic ~ Caesar
Look a
little bit
That
centuries of eras have passed and ~ Eros has lifted the funeral of love and no
one knows where he has gone
~ Erebus bites
the insipid lips of the dark intention
And astonished
like a child
What do you
say?
Does ~ Hani beam
with smiles?
And doesn’t ~ Shay Mureed drink intoxicant drinks?
We have
played with embers for an age
And
conciliated this heart
Whose
tolerance has been broken by the doors of lovelessness
The journey
of thirst didn’t end
We have
evaded into mopishness from our own disposition
How will
these times pass?
It’s better
if a person doesn’t recognize himself
7. The Dream
I am
thinking that every dream which is lying in the pocket of my previous clothes,
I should
send you all of them
Because the
life of those dreams was concerned with you
But these
dreams were not Socialists, Communists, and Marxists
I am
thinking that I should not impair these dreams and send them to you
Because in
summer the ridges of sea waves become sharp like a sword
The sword is
a symbol of life, death, travel and moving forward
How it would
be if I leave these dreams in the sea?
I am
thinking
In constant
thinking I feel that I am standing barefoot in a wide field and looking at the
sky
I am
thinking how it would be if I make these dreams amulets and make them wear to a
tree of the path
This tree would
travel
From country
to country
Life to life
And should
reach to the heaven
And take these dreams along with itself
And I would
be in the hell
And these
dreams should come in my dream every night
And they
should inform me about you there
That how Socialists,
Communists, and Marxists travel with the seasons
And in which
language will they talk when they become lonely
8. The Season of
Existence
This sky
This jungle and the vacant hut used to be the symbols of past
but not anymore
See the both withered eyes of the wind
See how lonely the moon is
Do the remaining seasons of nocturnal age pass like this in
the desolate field?
The life is so melancholic and it doesn’t worth watching
Like it has migrated in the era of aged prostitute forehead’s
wrinkles
Let me go
The melody of dreams is downcast in front of the mirror of
Pleasure
The mettle has fled from the feet
The heart is a broken black road
Who will pass on it and go for himself?
On the gravestone of an aged grave
Which kind of stories these staying posters narrate?
This diary is unreadable
Let me go
The journey of Seven skies, seven lives, and the
seventy-seven years of life be like that
No one should see himself and move away
9. The Body
Passes Through a Season
The entire asset of my world
The thirst of my love’s club is your silky hair
That needs to be muzzled like a drop
That needs to be enkindled like a fire
That wants to pass like a memory
My existence stands like a statue and watches the gleams of
your beauty
In the luster of earth, The God too watches you, ponders and
connotes
You are involved in the bygone season
You are associated with the old seasons
You are contained in all the appearances
I think of your rosy and delicate lips
I accommodate myself in the soul of my poem
Your figure is a boat which drifted from a far-flung sea and
comes alone
I am a master sailor
My fingers are incessantly entangling and quiescently
quivering with fetters
Sometimes you come like a pomegranate in my dream
It’s strange that I am fearful of the disease
Of this black palsy which is entangling my feet
The night swung the ecstatic melody of melancholy and fell
asleep
You become a play which I am playing
of which age circles are these
the seasons have passed neighing
the raw henna of your hand cries over the lines of my life in
the porch of my dreams
I see myself in the time of another period
That I am riding a green horse
And holding an elegant sword
You are standing in front of me
And you are having a red pomegranate
I want to dismount from the horse
And I want to reach myself
10. The Sky Is a
Boat
Tell to the
clouds of waiting
This fall
will pass with pale cries
The spring
will arrive again
These sore
memories will heal
When these
eyes recall the memories of past,
Again, the
season and life will travel along likewise
Some hard words used in these poems which might need a bit definition are:
1. ~ Chandan – Chandan Saach – Poet Name
2. ~ Bilqis – The Queen of Sheba (Hebrew: מלכת שבא; Arabic: ملكة سبأ, romanized: Malikat Saba; Ge'ez: ንግሥተ ሳባ) is a figure first mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. In the original story, she brings a caravan of valuable gifts for the Israelite King Solomon.
Bilqis the Queen of Sheba stands as a outstanding figure: a genuine queen who ruled the lands of sands in ancient times. Her story, describing the encounter with Prophet Solomon and her subsequent embrace of his faith (Islam), permeated through centuries.
For further reading, head over to the below mentioned links:
link 1: Bilqis
link 2:Bilqis
For more reading click the link below:
Link: Solomon
A brief account about Bilqis and Solomon Story is given below:
Cleopatra VII was part of the Macedonian dynasty that took over rule of Egypt in the late 4th century B.C. During her reign, she forged political alliances and became romantically involved with Roman military leaders Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, until her death in 30 B.C. One of antiquity's most famous rulers, Cleopatra's life inspired William Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra and numerous film dramatizations, most famously a 1963 feature starring Elizabeth Taylor.
For more reading:
1. Cleopatra
2. Cleopatra
Azmaan Kaaristhe E Log Ent [The Sky Is the Abode of a Character]
(Balochi poetry book which was written by Chandan Sach and published by Ilm O Adab Publisher Urdu Bazar, Karachi on March 2019.)
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