Poem Hunter
(14 February 1948 / Pujab / Pakistan)


I wear no amour, I carry no sword,
as I make my way down Andalusia
through centuries of tears.

Nowhere to camp beneath the sky.
The magic and mystery of a journey
lasting eight hundred years.

I may, who knows, flower some day
at daybreak. Now I trek through a dark
where thorns and weeds prevail.

[Translated by Muhammad Salim-ur-rahman]

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