THICKET OF MIRRORS

Lantern in hand,
Lantern ahead,
I come forth to fight darkness.

With the endless sway of rocking,
The cribs of weariness
Are now still
And a single sun
Sets fire to the cinders of galaxies
In the vastness of the deep.

*
Lightning’s wild shriek,
As the thunderhead
Is breeched
in the womb of an eager cloud,
And the silent pain of labour,
When the grape starts to bud
at the curling tip of a long stem…

In all, my scream
Is a flight from pain,
Because in the cruel night,
With hopeless fervour,
I was praying for a full sun…

*
And you have come from the suns,
You have risen from many a sunrise,
From mirrors and silken stuff.

*
In a space,
Where neither fire nor God existed,
With hopeless prayer
I implored your image and your trust.

A surging torrent
Within the spin of twin deaths
And of twin isolations
In empty space,
(Such are your trust
and your vision.)

*
Your elation
Is both serene and savage.
In my bare hands, your breath is song
and foliage.

I am rising again.

Lantern in hand,
Lantern in my heart,
scraping the rust off my tarnished soul,
Setting a mirror to face your mirror,
I turn you into
an infinity.

AHMAT SHAMLU
Translated by Tatul Sonentz