From the charming, dizzy heights of Jabal Sabar*,
Man like a tiny drop
Might be dropped down by wind
And be lost into the mist below,
Might fall on to the tiny houses
That appear from the arresting height
Like toys and the thoughts
Of being dropped below make
The cluster of clouds quiver.
There will be an emptiness on the canvas,
A blankness in the panorama!
Is it possible to go, even
After tears are shed and
hands dangle after
An emotionally shocking shake,
words become drooping
Flowers of emotional exchange?
I look at the skyscape addressing a cloud,
That may rain any moment
And one can listen to its sweet,
Mesmerizing melody,
Delicate drops falling on the soft
Petals of a lotus flower:
Exotic fragrance floats
And settles down
In the memory and follows
Wherever one goes.
Going is like a garden that looks up
To the sky after its full bloom,
An inevitable Everest of an end—
Buoyant, magnificent, rising,
Promising, now you
Carry the bounty with gloom,
In your bosom
Like pearls hidden in
The bottom of the sea,
Inside the shells, scintillating
Like thoughts
In your mind;
Like blood in
Your heart.
Whenever you go,
Wherever you go
Always remember:
Right action is freedom.
