Few lines by Hassan Dars

Sindhi, in spite of being my mother tongue, i know a very little about.i can speak very basic Sindhi but i cannot write a word of it. a teacher once told me that you a master a language when you think in that language and i certainly didn’t think in Sindhi.whenever some relative of mine speaks a difficult (difficult according to me, of course) word in Sindhi, i strike him back with an expression of oblivion. however, i have realized the sweetness and richness of this language from the folk songs my ears have perceived, from ancient poetry of Sufi saints of Sindh, from Shaikh Ayaz, from Hassan Dars.  here are few lines by Hassan Dars translated to English.


My village, though quite old

in it glares my love like gold                                                                                                 

after sunset we met in a barren temple                                                                                      

To cut through my heart                                                                                                                

thy shrill voice ample

Sindh is like shadow of the beloved                                                                           

reflected on the deep sub-soil water                                                                               

Much as an idyllic dream that fills                                                                                          

as a reverie in the eyes

in the court of the Naked Sarmad
in this land of accusations
i am your Abhi Chand
same Abhi Chand
in this fading evening of a city
in front of the library
of your nakedness
filling the cup of pain
gulping it down
and feeling worse
this admission to desirable nakedness
and the fate of love
dark alleys of torment
my luck lines got crushed
under a throne
and time that beats in
the chest of the night
and the season mourns over
its own sorrows
but I cry for those feet
and the morning that was extinguished
in the hem of your shirt
i cry for all the oppression
i am like a withered branch
you, a vast jungle whose silence is loud
shakes everything
i a small dying plant
you a storm
an earthquake
that shakes every heart
in this immense world of yours
i bring a little offering
my little offering of my little name
gulping down from
whatever was left
of your pain
i am your same Abhi Chand
i am your same Abhi Chand

in every man’s heart,
the leap of a mare
each man has a bit of an ocean
every lover has a bit of a beach
on every beach
there is longing
and in the heart of every longing
there is a rising tide
every man has a thought
years and centuries panting
behind all the news and all the views
always a burning word
in every man dances a peacock
in every man dances a thief
every age comes dancing
with swords floating down one’s throat

every age, its own puzzle

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