When age grapples with young love,
Sorrows are poured into holy-waters
And living becomes shortened
Into the gravity’s pull of the columnar limbs,
Breasts sprout the way of tulips and thickets
Make the clouds burst into the dark night.
When the flesh has the sheen of satin,
And silk thread sharpened between lips.
O dunes of sand lead me unto yourself,
Another mirage appears to fasten my journey.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
March 9,2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem