I have seen the word:
In the rain
Disappearing in the sackclothe room
In the queue for kerosene
In the eyes of terrified sad children.
I have seen the word:
Near the carcass of a buffalo
Standing with a utensil in hands
With empty belly
Slurping tea in a broken cup.
I have seen the word:
In those temples
Where the stains of tears
of innocent Yelamma still shine
I have seen the word:
Leaving ones own land
Hating ones own self
I have seen the word.
From ‘Maanind’
Baidar Bakht:: Translator of Urdu Poetry par excellence
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