Every Vista Asked About You

Though the pallid water fell high And bathed the blue rocks continual clean. Though to the deep, The cattle walked over the centuries-old glaciers Though the horror of Sindh could be heard And the hurry of her water seen. Though the calm cool lakes created Long lingering waves. Though by the early evening, Nomads’ flock viewed of the far Walking to the far-off. Though in the lush meads the horses’ dung in air An unknown fragrance had spread. Though the goats grazed ‘long the standing hills And the buffaloes churned stock-still their heads, held eyes. Though the horsemen galloped across the vale And took the white women-visitors long ride. Though the lofty road wayed ‘mid the Zojilla hills, High, along the Sindh’s cedars’ shore. Though in the north The cloudy summits lived in frost and chill. Though a country lad on the road’s side Stared sweet of half-open eyes— The passing visitors’ vehicles, And tempted me to kiss. Though to the uphill, An old alone nomad reclined on a lonely rock Looked beautiful—lost in thoughts. Though the Nature was in her sheer youth, Though I was flying in fervor and verve, Every vista asked about you And turned, all delights into despair.