39.
Ode to Happy Days
By JH Sayyar
1
Ah! Happy days have flown from the globe
Do tell me glorious days; where your stay!
A voice, “We are here; people our dress rob,
Wear us tattered dress leave alone in fray,
I sit at the city streets carrying a begging pot,
With the wrinkled face, among the mass,
Tears float in eyes, roll down on the cheeks,
Naked feet, sleeping on footpaths, my lot,
Passersby watch; none recognizes us, alas!
Roam on earth, pass thousands of weeks,
2
I meet them near a pile, with ruby eyes,
Filthy face, tattered dress none stops there,
By chance I stop, look at us sees to the sky,
I ask the name, he smiles at my care,
“My name, Past Happy Days, thrown sway,
Consider us old neither can walk nor talk,
And leave us in a jungle lonesome path,
I see the fall of modern age, I surely say,
Wait for that moment when I will stalk,
Like a king among the mass, free of worry
3
When I was young, my age; free of deceit,
Happiness ruled, civilized men and a child,
Simple dress and food sing with birds’ beat,
No killing; no looting, no fear in city or wild,
I see a tiny comet, in the sky at wee hour,
The symbol of past glory restores very soon,
I see its rays falling on earth, and human being,
Everything turns to its root, plants or a flower,
Fools call it happiness a modern walking ruin,
Now go, evening is comes; the day is fleeing
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