Manhood stands tall and high, and becomes madness;
The self takes leave of being and becomes ecstasy.
When iron sated with blood embraces love,
It turns into a bewildered sitar string.
When time robs man of love and the loved one,
He sees the beloved’s glory and his own.
How man sprouts when he sits down in dust!
A manjila resting on riches becomes a serpent.
Don’t shower houris and gilman over me. Enough!
God, I swear, I’m not concerned with anyone save you;
Where today, I walk oblivious and proud,
God knows, to this garden, who will be the heir.
I am a Pukthun and am not afraid of death;
I am angered at an empty life and a desolate end.
The river of doubt runs deep through my heart,
Wondering when the brilliant waterfall of hope will flow.
My heart gazes at your indifferent eye and so
At times the great string breaks into tears.
Is music lament or rapture – I cannot decide;
Every tone now moves us, now becomes shrill.
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Comments
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Too Hard
From guest Sadiq Shah (contact)
It is too hard to translate Ghani Khan's Poetry in English as admitted by Ghani Khan Himself. He says that translating my poetry in english is a dump job as I have done it for Pathans not for other nation. However, someone will know that he is a great philospher of Pathan Nation -
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Guest Sadiq Shah,
You are correct that it is too hard to translate Ghani Khan's work (and that of any poet) since poetry is dependent upon shared experiences of the language, history and culture of the writer and those who speak the same language.
However translators still do a great service by allowing us to sense something of the meaning of the original work and so bring something of the poet's thoughts to a wider audience. I, for example, would not be able to share any of this persons poetry without the help of a translator.
Jim
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the voice of the natural man
From guest mansoor alam (contact)
once again you have the voice of a natural man gone mad like lear.you do not get this spectecular description of a mind perplexed by the ultimate question of existence any where in pushtun poetry or (atleast very few). in this sense ghani khan has no equal except the likes of shakespeares!
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