They sent me a salwar kameez
&nb sp; peacock-blue,
& nbsp; and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
&nbs p; points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
&n bsp; snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
&n bsp; in Pakistan -
......
Following are several translations
of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be
the most famous of all haiku:
Furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
- Basho
......
I
I dream of journeys repeatedly:
Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel
Of driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula,
The road lined with snow-laden second growth,
A fine dry snow ticking the windshield,
Alternate snow and sleet, no on-coming traffic,
And no lights behind, in the blurred side-mirror,
The road changing from glazed tarface to a rubble of stone,
......
QUEEN GULNAAR sat on her ivory bed,
Around her countless treasures were spread;
Her chamber walls were richly inlaid
With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;
The tissues that veiled her delicate breast,
Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed
......
1
I carved your name on my watchband
with my fingernail.
Where I am, you know,
I don't have a pearl-handled jackknife
(they won't give me anything sharp)
or a plane tree with its head in the clouds.
Trees may grow in the yard,
but I'm not allowed
to see the sky overhead...
......
I usually avoid looking in the mirror,
As it reminds me of the duality that I nurture.
While my reflection constantly agonizes,
Here, I try hard to come off as gentle and composed.
I comb my hair, singing old songs, preparing to present myself to the world,
But in the reflection, I see my hair reaching down to my throat, wrapping around my neck, and then choking me,
Muting all the voices I want to make.
My eyes drip blood that flows right into my mouth, making me gallop in all my sadness,
And I selectively hide.
I am always short of words to explain my melancholy,
......
Don’t smile with me if you don’t want to
Because I am not a mirror
Don’t be like a bluffer who gives me a black smile
A strange, nervous and abnormal smile
Because I am not a josher
Show me the genuine emotions of you
Give me something normal or natural
I am not asking for anything special
Just be yourself and I will appreciate it
Don’t give something unusual and vile
......
THE INFINITY MIRROR
Read it as a poem where the mirror is personfied as the artist. So you have to decide for yourself who is she/he/it and what is my relationship to the mirror as an artist personified.
Also as a poem about schizophrenia where the voices are imagined as images or ideas reflected back, and language is also reflected back. Also a stream of consciousness poem.
The Infinity Mirror
Reminiscent of a dream:
......
I look into my mirror, the same mirror I look in every day
I am so scared to meet my own eyes, but I can't help to do so
The dread I feel as I stare into my own eyes
My cold blank dead eyes
I feel as though, at that moment, I can't run from myself
I finally have to face who I am
I feel as if I'm forced to look deep into who I am
In my forced self-recollection, I question who I even am
......
I am kind of this perpetually tired
Sack of flour
I’ve been staring at the walls for hours
All I am full of is nothing
And it sounds pretty dramatic
But when i’m fulfilled, there’s no room for sadness
There’s no madness
I feel fine (if fine is the absence of anything)
I feel tired
All the time
......