Foot Print

Akhter-ul-Iman
(Translated by Khaja Nizamuddin)

On the half-asleep grass,
The sad footprint is trampling,
The existence of dewy clothes.
The showers of pearls absorbed in the air,
Drizzling on the gloomy world in the night.

The traffickers of life disappeared
Where, not known.
What kind of world that is
With no beginning and no end
Over stretched is the circle of day and night
No end to fences, where I stood.

On the focus of sight, a mountain stands
And gloom beyond it, is wider than the mountain.
If I leap across,
Nothing is there.
There is neither life nor death.
I wish a thousand times to break the barriers
But this iron rope,
The loop of servitude,
Entangled my legs,
Mingled with my blood
I am mere a footprint of life;
A sign of beguiled joy.

There is no new horizon,
Where these pale faces,
These skeletons,
Cannot be seen?
I wish the arms of wind, be capable
To show the new age,
From the turning of life.