SOME GHAZALS

(I)

 

For years I have wondered, how it is looking back,

Mirrors grew hazy when they found me looking back.

 

I have searched for you in now forgotten summer songs

The paths between the stars, have I traversed looking back.

 

Nights which descended upon me like dust on books,

I have sipped away with wine, with your thoughts rushing back.

 

In cities where gods beg outside temples all day,

I spend my days selling memories, and buying back.

 

All roads lead me away from the spring of our love,

Zafar, this spring next year, is not coming back. 

 

 

 

 

(II)

 

 

We straddle borders with playful fingers my love

 

Still your heart rejects this stranger's azaans my love.

 

 

Your Arctic eyes keep frozen the warmth of my songs

 

Your city blackens with shame its mirrors my love.

 

 

 

My hours gallop like horses, whispering your name,

 

Like an apprentice clerk, you keep ledgers my love.

 

 

Your smile blooms cherries, blossoming flowers in May,

 

Your downcast eyes harbingers of Autumn my love.

 

 

In this city Zafar, even water has to be bought,

 

Blood squeezed from flea markets, served to strangers my love.

 

 

                                               

 

 

(III)

 

A strange sadness hangs in the air,

And moves to and fro,

Every time the wind blows.

Like a convict at the gallows,

Just executed.

This sadness takes over me,

Like wine taking over a heart

And dreams colonising young heads.

This sadness speaks to me in a strange tongue,

Whispering your name as a curse,

Whispering your name as a cure.