IQBAL THE POET OF THE TIME

A MOTHER'S DREAM

One night while sleeping
I dreamt
Seeing which I began
To get impatient

I saw that
To a place I am going
Where everywhere was dark
And paths are not reaching

As I proceeded
With the confidence I gathered
A queue I saw
Where boys had assembled

Emerald-like garment
They were wearing
In every hand
A little lamp was burning

Without making any noise
To and fro they were moving
Lord alone knows
Where exactly were they going?

While in this thought
My son did I find
Standing in this set
And left behind.

He was at the back
'coz he was not quick.
The lamp in his hand
Was not getting burnt.

I said 'Dear One!
Remember me.
Leaving me behind,
Where have you come?

Restless I am
In your separation
Enjoining I am
A necklace of tears

To us you have showed
No concern at all
The wound once healed
Loyal you are not at all

When saw the children
My fret and fume
Turning his face
The reply came

If you are sad
When from you I separate
Neither for your lad
Is there any profit (in separation)!

Saying this, the child
For sometime remained quiet.
Then lamp in his hand held
He spoke thus:

Are you wondering,
What to this is happening?
Your tears flowing
Has barred it from burning.