MY YOUTH

My youth played me a trick
And left like a trickster or
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a rising monsoon
Roaring swelling and dazing,
But its glory lasted a few days only
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a forest cedar,
Enjoying meadows on a river bank,
But was cut asunder by an angry axe,
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a flaming fire,
Leaping and rising and spreading all over
But once extinguished
It lost its warmth and zest
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a sweet dream
Which on awakening, left me brooding,
But which I pine to dream again
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a bird of Char Chinar,
Chirping and frolicking on a lilting branch
But was shot dead by a sharp shooter
And left unwept,
Like a new born Spring.

My youth was like a sweeping brook
Rushing forth and not to stop on way,
Which couldn't water my meadows green
And was lost for me.
Like a new born Spring

Translated from Kashmiri by Hameed Mumtaz