An Interview with the Dead

(Iqbal’s Khaftagan-e-Khak se Istafsar)

The bright sun set, the face of evening got unveiled,

On the shoulders of surroundings is scattered locks of evening,

This preparation of dressing in black is in someone’s sorrow,

But, society of nature is mourning the demise of the sun,

The sky is casting magic spells upon the lips,

The enchanting night’s eye is upon awaken eyes,

Wave of wind is blowing dipped in the river of silence,

Yes, but from a distant place comes sound of a caravan bell,

Heart, in the anxiety of love, abhors the world,

Has drawn me away from tumult of the world,

I am the spectator of the scene of misfortune,

I am in company of the sleeping people in a secluded corner,

Wait a bit heart beats! Let me have a seat,

And on this settlement, let me drop a few tears,

O, the dead-drunks! Where do you live?

Say a bit of that world where you live,       

That too is any wonderland of today and tomorrow?

And is any spectacle of fighting elements?

There too, man is confined within fortress of grief?

In that foreign land too, is man’s heart helpless?

There too the moth dies in the burning lamp?

In that garden land too, is there romance of flower and nightingale?

Here at a hemstitch heart comes out of the side,

There too, does the heat generated by a couplet melts hearts?

Relations and connections are woes of life here,

In that lovely land too such pointed thorns are there?

In this world one’s livelihood is connected with hundreds of calamities,

In that land is the soul free of this worry?

Is there lightning too, peasant too, rick too there?

Cavaneers too are there? Fear of robbers too is there?

Straws are picked for the nest there also,

Worry is caused for brick and mortar for the house,

There too, men are unrelated to their reality?

Are they fanatically discriminating about nation and religion?

Does the garden not weep on the petition of the nightingale there too?

Like this world, the heart does not ache there too?

Paradise is a garden or a place of rest,

Or the look unveiled is the name of eternal handsomeness,

Is hell a plan for burning the sin?

Or hidden in the flames of fire is intention to discipline?

The reward of going to that land is a better life?

What is the secret of that called death by people of earth?

Man’s heart is satisfied with existentialism,

Is man’s knowledge in that foreign land limited too?

Departed hearts get satisfaction on seeing each other,

Is “Man cannot see God” echoed in that land too?

Do the souls get peace in quest there too?

Men have taste of inquisitiveness there too?

Alas! That land is inhabited by darkness!

Or, it is replete with light of brilliance of love,

Disclose the secret that this revolving dome of sky has,

Death is a piercing thorn in the heart of man.

( Suggestions invited for betterment )
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