عبدالله برباد

( بیگواہیں اِزمکار )

عبدالله تئی بینجو باریں ساز نه اِنت یا جنگل بےسُر بُوان اِنت

چیزے پورا هر رو کَمتر بُوان اِنت

تئی یاگی تئی ورنائیں بَچ

گیابانءَ هپتارءَ وارت

چه تو پد تئی پیژگاهءِ کُمری اوں سْیه مارءَ وارت

تو نیَتکئے نازبوئی ٹالے کبرءِ هاکاں شات نه کُت

جتکیں جونءَ چادر اوں پِر دات نه کُت

میّت کوپگ دات نه کُت

باریں چونیں کبرستانیں زندانےءَ آباد ئے

عبدالله تو چو تئی نامءَ برباد ئے

گَزبَستانءِ گَزّاں چون اِنت گرانازیں

بےچاڑ اَنت، هچ پئیم نه بنت، بےتاهیر اَنت

دْرُشکیں داباں پِر بندنت گوں زیمر هورکیں زهیروکاں

گوات بِکّشیت نازُرکءَ اوں برمش بُجنت بیوانکیءِ

واب پُرشنت کرگُشکانی

پد اوں گار اَنت کِشکانی

روباه تانگو تَتک ءُ شُت، گُرک کجا پاد اَتک ءُ شُت

رازءَ رازے پِر بُوان اِنت

اِزم ءِ اشکر پُر بُوان اِنت

عبدالله تئی بینجو باریں ساز نه اِنت یا جنگل بےسُر بُوان اِنت

چیزے پورا هر رو کمتر بُوان اِنت

ABDULLAH BARBAD

(The Missing Artist)

Abdullah!

Either your benjo has fallen out of tune,

Or the jungle has grown discordant.

Each day, something seems to fade away.

Your young, rebellious son

Was torn apart by hyenas in the wilderness.

After you, the dove in your courtyard

Was devoured by a dark serpent.

You did not come to place basil leaves on his grave,

Nor could you lay a shroud on his battered corpse,

Nor became a pallbearer for his coffin.

I wonder in which grave-like dungeon you dwell—

Ruined, just like your name.

What has become of the graceful tamarisks of Gazbastan?

Why are they so restless, dejected, and downcast?

They chant their anguish with tuneless Zahirok.

Even when the breeze blows gently,

Whispers of emptiness unfurl,

Stirring the rabbits awake.

Footprints have vanished from the pathways.

Where did the fox flee?

From which direction did the wolf come and go?

Mystery upon mystery continues to grow,

As the glowing ember of art turns to ash.

Abdullah!

Either your benjo has fallen out of tune,

Or the jungle has grown discordant.

Each day, something seems to fade away.

Translated by Fazal Baloch