Black Out
(Written during the India-Pakistan war of 1965)

Ever since the lights failed,
I have been searching to see how I could see.
Where have my eyes strayed in the dust?

You who know, give me proof.
Describe me to myself.

A bitter river rages in my veins.
And my heart, still longing for you,
flows on its poisonous waves.

Wait a little: perhaps from some other world
the hand of a prophet, carved in lightning,
is bringing me pearls for my lost eyes.

Wait till the river is stilled
and my submerged heart, annulled like a Sufi's,
is washed up, cleansed, on a welcoming shore.

I will then begin a new translation of hope.
I will complete the texts of love.