It’s the Dream

It’s the dream we carry

that something wondrous will happen

that it must happen

time will open

hearts will open

doors will open

spring will gush forth from the ground–

that the dream itself will open

that one morning we’ll quietly drift

into a harbor we didn’t know was there.

---by Olav H. Hauge from Borealis (March/April 2002), translated from the Norwegian by Robert Hadin.

बोल कि लब आज़ाद हैं तेरे

बोल कि लब आजाद हैं तेरे
बोल, जबां अब तक तेरी है
तेरा सुतवां* जिस्म हे तेरा
बोल कि जां अब तक तेरी है.

देख कि आहनगर** की दुकां में
तुन्द** हैं शोले, सुर्ख है आहन^
खुलने लगे कुफलों के दहाने^^
फैला हर जंजीर का दामन.

बोल, ये थोड़ा वक्त बहुत है
जिस्मों जबां की मौत से पहले
बोल कि सच जिंदा है अब तक
बोल कि जो कहना है कह ले.

* तना हुआ,**लोहार, *** तेज, ^लोहा, ^^तालों के मुंह

---

With the Land

The land comes near me
drinks from me
leaves its orchards with me
to become a beautiful weapon
defending me

Even when I sleep
the land comes near me
in my dream.
I smuggle its wild thyme
between exiles
I sing its stones
I will even sweat blood
from my veins
to drink its news
so the land comes near me
leaves a stone of love with me
to defend it
and defend me

When I repay it
I will embrace it a thousand times
I will worship it a thousand times
I will celebrate its wedding on my forehead
on the rubble of exiles
and the ruins of prisons

I will drink from it
It will drink from me
So that the Galilee would remain
beauty, struggle, and love
defending it
defending me

I see the land;
a morning that will come
---Rashid Hussein
* Translated by Sinan Antoon. The poem appear in Al-A`mal al-Shi`riyya (al-Taybe: Markaz Ihya’ al-Turath al-`Arabi, 1990)

Without a Passport

I was born without a passport
I grew up
and saw my country
become prisons
without a passport

So I raised a country
a sun
and wheat
in every house
I tended to the trees therein
I learned how to write poetry
to make the people of my village happy
without a passport

I learned that he whose land is stolen
does not like the rain
If he were ever to return to it, he will
without a passport

But I am tired of minds
that have become hotels
for wishes that never give birth
except with a passport

Without a passport
I came to you
and revolted against you
so slaughter me
perhaps I will then feel that I am dying
without a passport

---Rashid Hussein
* Translated by Sinan Antoon. The poem appear in Al-A`mal al-Shi`riyya (al-Taybe: Markaz Ihya’ al-Turath al-`Arabi, 1990)

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

---Joyce Kilmer

कहाँ तो तय था (Kahan to Tay ttha)

कहाँ तो तय था चिराग़ाँ हर एक घर के लिए
कहाँ चिराग़ मयस्सर नहीं शहर के लिए

यहाँ दरख़तों के साये में धूप लगती है
चलो यहाँ से चलें और उम्र भर के लिए

न हो कमीज़ तो पाँओं से पेट ढँक लेंगे
ये लोग कितने मुनासिब हैं इस सफ़र के लिए

ख़ुदा नहीं न सही आदमी का ख़्वाब सही
कोई हसीन नज़ारा तो है नज़र के लिए

वो मुतमइन हैं कि पत्थर पिघल नहीं सकता
मैं बेक़रार हूँ आवाज़ में असर के लिए

तेरा निज़ाम है सिल दे ज़ुबान शायर की
ये एहतियात ज़रूरी है इस बहर के लिए

जिएँ तो अपने बग़ीचे में गुलमोहर के तले
मरें तो ग़ैर की गलियों में गुलमोहर के लिए.

---Dushyant Kumar

And If...

And if the branches tap my pane
And the poplars whisper nightly,
It is to make me dream again
I hold you to me tightly.

And if the stars shine on the pond
And light its sombre shoal,
It is to quench my mind's despond
And flood with peace my soul.

And if the clouds their tresses part
And does the moon outblaze,
It is but to remind my heart
I long for you always.

-Written by Mihai Eminescu. (Translated by Corneliu M. Popescu)