A Belated Call

Him whom I could not then love much Why do I now remember thus at this late hour, a Mother? Today I remember every night he lulled me to sleep by kissing my eves, Kisses followed kisses breaking my early dawn sleep under their heavy load. I felt then much distressed And sought an early release. The memory now fills my eyes with . a flood of tears. Me unfortunate! Under griefs overwhelming weight vanity doors now kiss the dust. The over-flowing caress of the fuIlness of his young breast I trampled under foot, a Mother! Why then this hankering today These feet he pressed on his breast And on them did print a thousand kisses, While tears inundated his eyes, With no response from me, so vain was I, a Mother! Thus awfully disgraced he had to go away. Indeed I saw his breast with scars of neglect, From pillar to' post went he disgraced, He thought of mea a haven, A protection from insult, an abode of peace. A fool that I was I shut my door upon my lord through ignorance. In disguise of a beggar called at my door my King of Kings. He lost his way and came, he, my welcome kingly beggar, Me wretched! How could I recognize him, O Mother? So his offerings of worship, His garland of pearls I refused, My Lord himself worshipped me with ample offerings, Alas! I knew not the worshipper amid the encircling dark smoke of burnt incense. Who knew he came to me last? Nothing is left behind save farewell message of the princely guest. O my Love! Where didst thou nestle, When called at this door my King? Earth now heaves a sigh: 'He is not here, seek him in vain.' He is an eternal traveller, free. of the bonds of home. From far afar comet the magic call of the shady path Beyond the heath, in the thick of the forest, Hark, the amorous jingling of his tinkling anklet? He blossoms with the flower, wanders over hills with the clouds, Now here, now gone, I know not whom he wants. Mother, where should I get power enough to hold this gypsy lover? For him is not love, nor evening lamp to call home. So the doors of my heart Responded not to his knockings, I thought I then loved some one else. I pushed afar the homeless wanderer, with his offended sentiment. In loving embrace, he wanted to press me closely to his bosom, A wretch I was to run away in trembling fear. The shade of kingly beggar's eyes From a distance charmed me, At his near approach the tearful depth of his long hungry look, Overwhelmed me with pain and the lyre of my mind went out of tune, Why then, Mother, do I hanger now for him to come back, And long for his touch of love and caress I then disregarded? Today, I feel I can bury my face in his bosom in deep felicity, And can easily weep out my soul laden with sorrow. Will my wails reach him across the dim forest of his abode, O Mother? Today, I understand, my whole wealth of life's peace and happiness My lover, the King of thieves, has stolen away. O My King of Spring Season! Come back and take my garland as laurels on thy brow. Today, my bosom bursts under the load of grief and lamentation, Come and see how heart-rending are now the wails of that marble-hearted one. Thy prophecy comes true, blood flows out of stone The terrible conflagration of forest burns today a mountain of stone A stupendous flow-tide arises in my bosom, Breaking barriers, breaking bulwarks, In the breast of the dumb appears the God of speech amid a tempestuous sea- Now my bosom bursts, my mouth speaks Whom can you stop, Mother? My heaven was lost with his departure, Now I toss on my sleepless pillow alone with no companion on this sad night- He ill not come by my side up To wake me up before peep of dawn Never will he come at deep of night in the, amorous pursuit of stealthy kisses, His companion is doomed to weep out. a stormy night across a forest. Had I but found him today. I would, O Mother, have fallen flat at his fear Holding his lotus like feet on my breast bathed them in my lake of tears Seated him on one-half of my skirt, The flood of dears appearing unbidden I would have wiped out the wet collyrium from his eyes, face and lip's corner, With my disheveled hair wiped his feet imprisoning him within my embrace. Thou couldst see then, Mother, this Wayward girl, this cause of all ills Leaning her face on his generous bosom and saying, 'I love you' While thus unbosoming herself, a pleasing bashfulness Would make her blush and swear, Her face would unwillingly descend from his breast and roll unawares on his lap I would see, Mother, how could he then restrain himself on ground of injured sentiment! Thus now arises in me many a hope and thirst for love, From offended vanity, anguish, passion' and attachment rolled into one. Leaving me as a debtor of tears, Has he crossed high seas for an unknown island? Is it far beyond rivers, Mother? Is it that tempest itself cannot reach that far-off land. O Mother? If he now learns that I do love him, In wild ecstasy will his sepulcher burst open? His shouts will make The wide ocean of tears overflow, His frantic thunder will make a volcano burst forth Mountain and ocean and sky and air will encircle him in a cyclic dance, for shame! Mother, why shouldst thou weep plaintively like that? Rather recite to me some lay heard by thee from him. And listening let me fall asleep on thy lap. But who knocks at the door? Is it the storm that strikes like him? O West Wind' Wild West Wind! Thy friend is on the other side of the sea. He shall not come where I do exist. Gone is he to that land where falleth not my shadow. Why, still, from time to-time, Do I feel inclined to call him? To whom should I breathe what remains still unsaid by me? O Mother, my heart's anguish doth struggle hard on the threshold of my boso Adieu! Adieu! Speak to him of me if thou dost meet him? A King's offering can a beggar-maid. ever refuse it? I know. I know, Mother, My offended lover, shall come again In search of me at dead of night to this door of our cottage, Tell him then I am lost in darkness in search of him alone! [Translation: Abdul Hakim]