![]() Now that you’ve come, stay-let some color, season, thing Poison color, blood color, the color of black night. The color of red flowers in a blazing garden ![]() Sometimes a gold color-a color of eyes’ delight Pritchett.Īnd now the glass of wine, the road, the color of the sky Note: The following translation into English is by Frances W. Some tear-stained robe, some wincing nerve, The tint of poison, of blood, of sable night. Of the crimson petals of the flower-beds aglow, The colour of yellow leaves, of thorn and trash, Sometimes ashen, the shade of the dreary moment. Sometimes the golden tinge, sometimes the hue of the joy of The Colour of the Moment by Faiz Ahmed Faizīefore you came, everything was what it is-Īnd now the wine-glass, the pathway, the sky’s tint. Note: The following translation into English is by Shiv K. The sky sight’s bound, the road a road, wine wine. Some month, some anything, keep its own place,Īnd all things once again be their own selves, ![]() Now you have come, stay here, and let some colour, The first a tear-stained robe, the next a nerveĪching, the last a mirror momently altering…. Or scarlet petal, a flowerbed all ablaze:Ĭolour of poison, colour of blood, or shade Or tint of yellowed leaves, of garden trash, Now grey, the livery of despondent hours, The hues of this heart ready to melt into blood. Road, wineglass, colour of heaven, all have taken The glass of wine a glass of wine since then, The sky sight’s boundary, the road a road, Note: The following translation into English is by Victor Kiernan.īefore you came, all things were what they are. May the things – the colors, the seasons, It’s the Color of My Heart by Faiz Ahmed Faiz Note: The following translation into English is by Ravi Kopra. So the world may become like itself again:Īnd the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine. The sky, the road, the world keep changing. The yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,Īnd the sky, the road, the glass of wine? The gold when we meet, the season ablaze, The grey of your absence, the color of poison, or thorns, The road was just a road, wine merely wine. Note: The following translation into English is by Agha Shahid Ali. The glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine. The third a mirror that never reflected the same thing. Who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.Īs for the sky, the road, the cup of wine: You were the artist of dried-up leaves, sorceress The road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,Ī glass of wine was no more than a glass of wine. Note: The following translation into English is by Naomi Lazard.īefore you came things were just what they were: I love sleep correct me if I am wrong for in sleep I am equal to anyone I shared his view although I know ours would be differentįor that kind of life of leisurely clouds and wild cranes House that cost him nearly one million dollars off record he talked about his planįor afterwards he said he would love to lead a xianyun yehe life Sleep I become wordy soon I’ll stop I love sleep I dream a little although I don’t recallĪnything this morning I went to a friend’s house to interview him he had a beautiful Things like that and I felt sad kind of for him and for myself I love sleepĪnd when I do so I know I am wasting my life knowing that I am wasting my lifeĪnyway even if I do not sleep I cherish the time immediately after I wake upįor I hear the birds calling out to each other among themselves I do not hear them in I began to know that he was an orphan that he had nowhere to go on weekends “for I dream of things, beautiful things that you never will see anywhere in the world” On the bridge across a nameless creek that ran into the Yangtze River The only two things he did was go to work in the factory lifting things and comeīack to sleep in our three-bed room “I love sleep” he said one night as we stood To merit a mention I love sleep years ago in Wuhan while I was workingĪs a lorry driver in a shipping yard I had a roommate who loved sleep Sleep lingering in my bed with a bit of dream here and there but nothing substantial The rialto tower or the Sydney opera house I love sleep at 46įor I don’t remember anything about myself or what I do I love To say this but I love sleep not caring whether someone is going to bomb I love sleep knowing it is politically incorrect and culturally inappropriate
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