It is spring again. S woke up to find his tomato plants had grown overnight. And for once his usual pessimism and news of e. coli infesting by the cats, was replaced by grins, and very tall plants. Zamzama Park was exciting with new color. There were so many flowers - pinks licacs blues and the yellows of marigold. It is true - while we might be in the midst of political despondency, police brutality in Mingora, and a less than robust left, the flowers of spring have resisted.
Check out Faiz's "Bahar Aai", and S's experimental organic farm. Pics Courtesy: Madiha.
English Translation by Agha Shahid Ali
It is spring, And the ledger is opened again.
From the abyss where they were frozen,
those days suddenly return, those days
that passed away from your lips, that died
with all our kisses, unaccounted.
The roses return: they are your fragrance;
they are the blood of your lovers.
Sorrow returns. I go through my pain
and the agony of friends still lost in the memory
of moon-silver arms, the caresses of vanished women.
I go through page after page. There are no answers,
and spring has come once again asking
the same questions, reopening account after account.