My songs are like eyes <br />That sting with the grains of separation. <br />In the middle of the night , <br />They wake and weep for dead friends. <br />Mother, I cannot sleep. <br /> <br />Soaked in perfume, <br />But the pain does not recede. <br />I foment them <br />With warm sighs, <br />Yet they turn on me ferociously. <br /> <br />And need guidance myself. <br />Who can advise him? <br />Mother, would you tell him, <br />To clench his lips when he weeps, <br />Or the world will hear him cry. <br /> <br />Tell him, mother, to swallow the bread <br />Of separation. <br />He is fated to mourn. <br />Tell him to lick the salty dew <br />On the roses of sorrow, <br />And stay strong. <br /> <br />Who are the snake handlers <br />From whom I can get another skin? <br />Give me a cover for myself. <br />How can I wait like a jogi <br />At the doorstep of these people <br />Greedy for gold? <br /> <br />Listen, o my pain, <br />Love is that butterfly <br />Which is pinned forever to a stake. <br />Love is that bee, <br />From whom desire, <br />Stays miles away. <br /> <br />Love is that palace <br />Where nothing lives <br />Except for the birds. <br />Love is that hearth <br />Where the colored bed of fulfillment, <br />Is never laid. <br /> <br />Mother, tell him not to <br />Call out the name of his dead friends <br />So loudly in the middle of the night. <br />When I am gone, I fear <br />That this malicious world, <br />Will say that my songs were evil. <br /> <br />Mother, o mother <br />My songs are like eyes <br />That sting with the grains of separation. <br />In the middle of the night , <br />They wake and weep for dead friends. <br />Mother, I cannot sleep.<br /><br />Shiv Kumar Batalvi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pinch-of-separation/
