( 1 )

This night, a tree of pain

Greater than you and I;

Greater, for in its branches

Endless entangled caravans of stars 

Carrying torches

Lost their way.

Thousands of moons 

Under its shade

Cried away their light.

This night, a tree of pain

Greater than you and I.

.

( 2 )

.

But from the tree of this night

These yellow leaves, a few moments,

Fall and, entangled in your hair,

Then turn to pink.

From night’s dew, silent moments—droplets—

.

Fall upon your brow,

Scattering like gems about your face.

This night is dark, but

From this darkness flushes forth

A stream of blood, my voice.

.

           ( 3 )

.

Under the tree’s shadow scatters light,

A wave of gold, your glance.

Grief, slowly smouldering in the garden of your arms

(That grief, the fruit of this night);

If it augments, enflamed from our cries, it will burst into a spark.

We pluck out arrows, pierced, broken in our hearts,

Shot from black-branch bows; with each we make an axe.

Heart-shattered people will find their morning in the ill-fated sky.

Here, where you and I now stand,

Here is their dawn’s hope, their horizon;

Here, dispersing the sparks of grief,

They become gardens of morning light;

Here, sorrow’s axes turn to fiery garlands of fine-rayed light.

   ~~~

Night’s gift, this sorrow,

Is now tomorrow’s faith;

Faith, a balm to sorrow

As morning is to night.

.

        Montgomery Jail  ∙  12 October-3 November 1953

             

.

                                                        

With C. M. Naim

.

From: Zindān̲ nāmah (Prison Narrative). Dihlī: Kabīr Buk Ḍipo. 1955. pp. 91 – 96

Mulaqāt is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970