How will it come, on the day Death comes?
Maybe it will come on the day in the early evening
Like the granting, without asking, of a first kiss
Opening the doors, in all directions, to the magical
And, at a distance, the fragrance of unseen flowers
Suddenly begins to torment the bosom of the moon

Maybe in this manner, sometime after the end of the night
The fresh-green dawn with buds half-open
Suddenly, flares up in waves from the Beloved’s chamber
And, from mute windows, at the time of departing
The sound of the stars, a tingling rattle, begins to be heard

In what way will it come, on the day Death comes?
Maybe in this manner, the method used, at the point of a spear
The vein, with just the premonition of pain, begins to scream
And the dim shadow of the bandit, spear in hand
Begins to strut about, over the world, from end to end

However it comes, on the day Death comes
Maybe it will come as a killer in the guise of the Beloved
From the heart will be these parting words to the image :
By God, praise to the fate of the heart stricken by love
Declare the faith in thanks to the sweet lips of the Beloved.

( my translation of a poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz ).

(c) Satori Publishing, 2020.