This Translation Tuesday, we feature two exquisite poems of love and loss that take the moon as their emotional core. Drawn from the posthumously published collection Aankhein, this tender pair of poems by the Pakistani writer Sara Shagufta (1954–1984) wrestles with the experiences of mortality with an equal penchant for directness and metaphor: “death bore a child / left her in my lap.” Translated from the Urdu by Patricia Hartland, Shagufta’s poems here are suffused with a rollicking rhythm and a profusion of internal rhymes that move the ear as much as the heart.
moon’s debt
tears carved our eyes into being
in our
own
tidal tumult
we pulled at the ropes
our own deathwailing
the earth hears
the stars’ screams loudest
not the sky’s
i unbraided death’s hair
and was stretched out on a bed of lies
eyes, a game of marbles
in sleep’s keep
not-morning-not-night
the between-space
withstood its own duality
my moon owes a debt to the sky
[i loaned this
moon from the sky] READ MORE…