My Friend, My Mate

By Faiz Ahmed Faiz

If only I could be certain, my friend,
If only I could be sure that your heart’s fatigue,
Your eyes’ despondency, your heartburn
Will be healed by my consoling and my love,

If my word of cheer were the cure
To enliven your dull and desolate mind,
Wash off the stains of humiliation
And heal your sick youth

If only I could be certain, my friend,
I’d console you day and night, evening and morning,
Humming to you songs, tender and sweet –
Songs of waterfalls, of springs, of gardens,
Of dawn’s arrow, of the moon and the planets,

I’d tell you tales of beauty and love – of
The snow-cold bodies of proud and beautiful human
Who melt in the heat of a passionate embrace –
How the still, familiar lines of a face
Will change suddenly, unnoticed;

How the crystal of the beloved’s cheeks
Takes on the glow of red wine;
How the rose-stem offers itself to the flower-gatherer,
And how the hallway of night
Is filled with fragrance,

So I would keep on singing, sitting beside you,
Weaving songs,
All for your sake.

But my songs are no cure for your pain –
A song is no surgeon even though it maybe a consoler;
Music is no surgeon’s knife even if it soothes as a balm

Your ailment has no cure save the lancet,
And this cruel cure is beyond me –
Beyond anything that breathes on earth.

Yes, it rests with you,
Only you!