In Pushto by Rahim Majrooh
Translation by Syed Aadil Omer
I’ve always thought,
If nothing else,
but at least in the matter of love
all the comely people in the world
wouldn’t have any sense of deprivation.
They would be thorougly self-sufficient
with abundance of love for them; they would
be happy in possession of this treasure
without any complain or displeasure,
for they are adored by all;
they rule over the hearts of the people.
They are eagerly awaited wherever they go
as people hold them in high affection;
they are treated with special care.
Every set of eyes admire their beauty.
People even spend their entire
lives to fulfill their wishes.
All the admiration, the veneration
is reserved for them.
They are considered the weakness
of every human being;
their chin-moles have been deemed
wealtheir than Samarqand and Bukhara.
Even kings behave like courtiers
at their doors-steps;
They are dedicated books,
and building are built on their names.
They are the fairies
of the imagination of poets;
they are the princesses
of the dreams of painters.
To meet even a single of their wishes
some are ready to stake
their lives while others could forsake
their entire surroundings and faiths.
Hence I think,
in the matter of love,
all the beauteous in the world
wouldn’t have any sense of deprivation;
they would be self-content in love,
but nay, it isn’t the case!
One can’t fathom the depth of a sea
standing afar on the shore.
The elegance, no matter how charming therewith
they might seem,
like the proud fairies of Koh e Qaaf,
or how reckless or ruthless they might look ,
they also breathe in the very world which we inhabit.
And this world is all but the name
of a trial; of desires, of the dreams unfulfilled.
So, the handsomes too carry in their hearts
a number of wastelands like that of a moon.
They too pass through the phases
of several heartbreaks, like that of a flowerbud
before smiling into a full bloom.
They too melt in the flames of their own selves
like that of a candle.
They could be in likeness to a parched shore
that breaks into cracks in waiting
of the arrival of favourable tides;
and like a phoenix
they burn in to ashes.