The qalandar I saw
Sitting alone in his corner
Silent as if spell bound, but smiling
Sometimes dancing joyfully
With a flute under his lips
But not producing the sound
I say he is listening the flute sound
The secret sound, the real sound,
Coming through his all pores
The secret flutist sitting behind his eyes
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem