Four Poems from Pakistan

Reproductions
Reproductions of Mughal miniatures
cut out from last year's calendar
and fragments of real Gandhara sculpture
bought for a song.

Prince Siddhartha gone into the night

with Channa, his charioteer
and old Tajiks in their tents
drinking China tea.

Almond-blossoms fall
and a crowcarved out of ebony
pushes itself through the rain.
I sit scraping the rust off my ancient coins.

Daud Kamal

Language Riot

Incredible how quiet are roadblocks; and a mob

it's become. I have seen wars, disputing phonetics with guns.
an earthquake, You can get shot down for a wrong
but not anything like vowel-sound, or knifed
this shot-gun peace. A branch tapping, for a turn of phrase.
a lizard's click, I have nothing to do with it.
explodes the unused silence. I live in the quietest
Empty streets rule the horizon part of the town,
to a window frame. Outside, where only the T.V. will stare
three soldiers play a game of dice. at anything nasty. Of course,
that rattles across the city. I do not hear those howling
I have things to do, of course, slogans, nor the curt
inside the house; and friends who military word.
telephone agree it's nice That's not me
to have a holiday, caught in the cross-fire, screaming.
though food is short. That's not me.

A few miles from my personal town, Maki Kureishi

PRODUCED 2005 BY UNZ.ORG

ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED
 I Cross the River

I cross the river and go into the land.

Here are the ricefieldsand untidy market towns,
summers that never seem to end,
and the thick speech of unlettered men.
A climate of extremes in all things,
and the earth's salt encroaching
on the farmer's labour. Friends are friends for life.
Enmities once struck outlast a generation.
But the old frontiers
were not worth dying fora concept
or a way of life these abandoned forts defend.
Huge women squat in kitchens with their friends.

Kaleem Omar

Return to Rajagriha

When Gautam reached the spot The path from there to here
Now called Sattapanni Was clear. All was orderly
He was tired, but happy. On either side. People debouched
He walked further up the hill From barn and sty to walk that lane.
And sat down on a boulder Gautam smiled. Some he knew
Still warm with the sun, Would exaggerate what he had done,
And looked north: Others renege, and a lucky handful
Smoke curled lazily Follow to the radiant conclusion.
From a clearing in the grove, below, But he was satisfied
Where his disciples were busy With what had been done.
Preparing the evening meal. Then he faced the East:
From that eminence Here was nothing but wilderness,
With his perfect vision he could see Jungle piled upon jungle,
The towers of Kapilavastu And snowy wastes, and not
Where his abandoned wife and child A track anywhere to be seen.
Still waited; Undeterred, Gautam rose,
The tree in whose shade Impatient to begin again
He had received intimations What only he could begin.
Of his destiny; He judged what light there remained,
And the deer-park in Benares, And with the sun behind his head,
The place of his first acclaim. He began his descent.

Taufiq Rafat

PRODUCED 2005 BY UNZ.ORG

ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED