Tomorrow another story will be written, neither loud arguments, nor scorns of plates of food on the table, no more, hearing that I am nothing, that I am worthless.
[author title=”Ramina Herrera Arteaga” image=”https://sindhcourier.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/ContemporaryWorldLiterature-Ramina-Herrera-SindhCourier.jpg”]Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.[/author]
وري ڪڏھن به نه
سڀاڻي ھڪ ٻي ڪھاڻي لکي ويندي
ڪوبه بحث مباحثو نه ٿيندو
نه ئي ماني کائڻ مھل بيعزتي ڪئي ويندي
منھنجي ھستي، منھنجي وجود جي بي وقعت ھجڻ جي ڳالھه به ڪونه ٿيندي
اھي جملا به ٻُڌڻا ڪونه پوندا ته آئيني ۾ پنھنجي شڪل ڏس
وھاڻا وکريل ھجڻ تي به ڊپ ڪونه ٿيندو
تنھنجي پيار تي به شڪ نه ٿيندو
ھڪ يقين ھوندو، جنھن جو ڪو وجود ڪونه ھو
نه ئي ڪا تنقيد ٿيندي ۽ نه ئي منھنجي ڳلن تان لُڙڪ لڙندا
منھنجي شاعريءَ تي به ٽوڪون نه ٿينديون
نه منھنجي بُڻ بنياد تي چٿرون ٿينديون
۽ نه ئي منھنجي مُنھن تي پئسا اُڇلايا ويندا
نه ئي منھنجي ڪنھن سان ڀيٽ ڪندي چيو ويندو ته
مون کان ھزارين ڀيرا بھتر عورتون موجود آھن
تنھنجي ساٿ ھوندي به تنھائيءَ جي پيڙا ڪونه ھوندِي
اھو به ٻُڌڻو ڪونه پوندو ته تون ڪنھن ٻئي جي پريم جو پوڄاري آھين
نه ئي جيئري مرڻو پوندو ۽ نه من اندر ڪا بيچيني ھوندي
گھريلو زندگيءَ جو به ڄڻ ته ھڪ وقت مقرر ھوندو آھي
تون آکيرو خالي ڪري، ڦٽيل من ڇڏي وئين
وڃايل پندرھن ورھين جو درد ۽ پيڙا
ڪنھن مَک جي ڀُون ڀُون جي ڪھڙي حيثيت آھي
تنھنجو ٿورو مڃڻ ڪُوڙ ڳالھائڻ ٿيندو
ھا منھنجي رڳُن ۾ ھڪ ڀيرو وري رت جي گردش لاءِ مھرباني
مون کي وري پنھنجو پاڻ کي ڳولي لھڻ جو موقعو ڏيڻ لاءِ مھرباني.
Never Again
Tomorrow another story will be written
No more loud arguments,
Nor scorns of plates of food on the table
No more, hearing that I am nothing, that I am worthless,
To look in the mirror and not recognize myself
No more fear if the cushions are wrongly arranged.
No more doubts of your love
Only the confirmation that never existed
No more vilification, no more dew running down my cheeks.
No more mockery of my lyrics
No more mockery of my origin
No more money thrown in my face.
No more comparisons
There are women a thousand times better than me,
No more sadness for the loneliness of your company.
No more, hearing that another was the love of your life.
No more martyrdom, no more anxiety,
That time at home has an expiration date.
You left the nest, empty hearts, wounded,
Nostalgia and rage for fifteen lost years
And the light fluttering of a fly that has no senses
To thank you for your time would be to lie to you,
Thank you yes, for the extension of my blood
Thank you for helping me to find myself again.
(August, 15-2021)
__________________________
Translated into Sindhi language by Nasir Aijaz
