THE TULIP

by Ghalib
translated from Urdu by Tony Barnstone and Bilal Shaw

 

 

In the inner workings of the tulip,
a red scar burns hot.
The farmer’s blood sears him;
he’s relieved when lightning burns the crop.

Here’s the thing:
until the bud blooms it feels secure.
Despite its collected heart,
the flower’s dream is torn apart.

I’m too weak to bear
this impatient grief
---a straw in the flame’s teeth,
my knuckles burning hot.

                                                (Ghazal 155)

 

 

 

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