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A Poem
(14 February 1948 / Pujab / Pakistan)

A Poem

There is a strange bitter taste in my mouth
The crystal water as it strikes
the rocky slabs
tears me also into shreds
Perhaps at a little distance from here
It is snowing in the mountains.
Everything is cold. I hold nothing against anyone.
Why does the moon peer from a cloud?
Why hold up someone who is intent on leaving?

[Translated by Muhammad Salim-ur-rahman]

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