Treasure Island

Shahida Latif


A Question


A dumb damsel standing on the brim,
At the moonlit night, engrossed, forlorn,
Questions to the glittering golden stars;
To the moon playing hide and seek,
Disappearing then showing itself,
From behind the ragged clouds:
The tattered shawl of the sky,
To the serene silence of the night,
To the sleeping humanity enjoying itself,
Delicious sweet slumber,
To the clattering water of the fountain beneath,
To the nodding trees absorbed in conversation,
On some profound matter of universal weight;
To the dew drops falling imperceptibly,
Lest they should disturb,
Tranquility of the sleeping the world;
To the beams of the moon that make her heart,
Perturbed awakening the hurricane of desires,
To the cool air that enflames her entire existence,
“Why has my fate been coupled,
To a dried out tree, all peeled off,
With the burly rope of destiny? ”

Submitted: Thursday, August 03, 2006
Edited: Saturday, August 21, 2010
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