Abul Hasan

Reza Haq

Original: Abul Hasan

There’s a stone, ever growing in beauty, in brightness–
Moist, magical, sad–
Is this the name of that stone? That’s what it is?
Is this a stone or some river? A satellite? Some sovereign?
Someone’s eyes awash in tears?
Six stars spread out across the space? The razor-sharp moon?
What meaning do these joint letters carry?
I’ve asked myself many times,
Those who are very close to my heart, those who go places
The brave children of time, those handsome guardians of civilization
Some of them have told me–
It’s is a pale version of your own father,
A name through which to continue to be,
Whose unwilling slave you are!
Perhaps the name of a war,
A terribly moonstruck man’s blue sigh!
A man’s, really?
Did he have human roots then,
He too once loved the five fingers on a girl’s left hand?
Loved flowers, candle, helmet, school of light?