Two pace ahead from the mosque, under the tamarind tree Comes my grave Every day a horse can be seen commuting here, Preferring a flowing stream A river runs and a camel keeps softly walking Along with the boat, the river flows with pride With the same disposition depart as well For what grave it comes, I know not But I know that no one will come for me, ever Neither a tree with prayers, Nor an image of a wind Or a flash of a lightening But people say that my grave is overcast, by this tamarind tree But with a major gust of a wind, my grave get piled with the leaves of that tree Every day, at the pre dawn, Arrives a man for sweeping the mosque He lights up the joss sticks and turns on the lights But the time has passed, I knew not how to tell that man That the name of my gravestone is not my name My grave is another and I am graved in an another grave. This poem is a translated version of Qasum Faraz’s poem Poet: Qasum Faraz Translated by Shahab Akram Published in Daily Times, April 9th 2018.