Mom, dear mother, listen!
The windows of my remembrances reverberate with pain
In the mid of night I awaken and weep for my lost friends
After which I cannot return to sleeping
Mom, dear mother, listen!
These floods of surging emotion
Levied nightly by the moonlight
Still our pain does not subside
Even if I attempt to sooth this sorrow
With my warm sighs
Even that engulfs us
I am just a child myself
Though I need advice
On how to console her, mother
Please tell my beloved mother
Weep, but silently
The world may overhear your pain
In this world, empty eyes consumed by desertion
Fate is bleak
Lapping the dew even from the rose of sorrow
Your heart will buffer courage
Mom, dear mother, listen!
From which magician must I acquire
The bird of peace, a dove?
Someone deign me the bird of peace
To guard these homes afflicted with anguish
And stand at every threshold like a yogi
For pain and sorrow, love is that butterfly
Which soothes oneself even on the crucifix
Love is that spring
Which bypasses desire by a million miles
Love is that castle
Where birds reside alone
Love is that courtyard
Where springtime arrives unannounced
Mom, dear mom, listen!
Please do not call out too loudly at midnight for our
beloved departed souls
Maybe this cruel world of existence will deem the songs of
those who died
Inauspicious!
Shiv Kumar Batalvi translated from the Punjabi by M.S.
Alverston & Associates
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