A Bad Omen

Poet: Iftikhar Arif

It was a strange moment,
My book had fallen in filth.
Tears trapped in the grimy eyes
of brilliant words
were calling me
but I was lost,
my eyes beheld another world.
The longing for new horizons
has severed me
from my own sight, my own vision;
orbiting new paths,
I have shifted from my own axis.
Rewards, bounty,
potentiality, hope,
fear, uncertainty, despair;
countless segments have split me up.
Before night lays its trap,
I wish to return.
Who knows, the book
might still be there;
who knows, it might
be awaiting my return.
Tears trapped in the grimy eyes
of brilliant words
might wash off the dust
of ambition,
of lust,
of arrogance;
who knows my words might condone me.
It was a strange moment,
My book had fallen in filth.

Translated by Yasmeen Hameed