Ghazal

Esra Tekin

There is no desire to speak again; whom to ask, what to say?

I, who was treated ill, what should I not read, what not to say?

What should I tell that honey for me is like poison!

I cry; the fist of the cruel! It teases. Would I not say?

There is no one who knows my affliction, none I trust;

For what should I cry, laugh, die, and live today?

I and this faith; the grief of my failure, and this wishfulness;

I cannot do anything; and the words of affection, if only I could say.

O my heart, there was spring and there was this season of comfort.

But I cannot fly anymore. I want to know to whom should I say ...

Though I am quiet and cannot remember any song,

Yet all the time, something stirs in my heart that I should say.

Ah, remember the good day when this cage was broken;

That loneliness is gone, my delight, I sing the cares away.

I am a frail stick that trembles in air each time;

An Afghan daughter who can say wherever she needs to say.

It is night and these words come to me

By the call of my voice words come to me

What fire blazes in me, what water do I get?

From my body, the fragrance of my soul comes to me

I do not know from where these great words come

The fresh breeze takes loneliness away from me

That from the clouds of light comes this light

That there is no other wish that comes to me

The cry of my heart sparkles like a star

And the bird of my flight touches the sky

My madness can be found in his book

O do not say no, my master, O look once at me

It is like the day of judgment

Like doomsday my silence comes at me

I am happy that the giver gives me silk

And all night, all along these verses come to me

Nadia Anjuman