@ Cry a River
Cry a river, to the brim of the lid
A steaming heart, to the nostrils fume.
A mind on fire, and cold like ice,
Snow covers hold expansions anomalous.
Niagara, falls and flows on the palm-lines
Drop of the dew is mirror to the garden.
Horizons have caught red hues and color,
From the petal’s edge, and feathers of bird.
A lament as dear, a haunt so distant,
What else in my cup, heavens it spills.
Down I look, foe or friend. My rival!
Anything else in love I adore?
Silk on the fingers, saffron’s aroma
The bosoms’ smell, ah, cloves wholesome.
My fancy, dear fancy, the voyage is from,
The beloved’s thick hair, to the shine,
Of the cheek. The tenderness, on lips-
Hath a bee ever sucked nectar so sweet.
From dusk to dawn the night is long,
On the door of tavern, some vespers secret.
Image: Niagara Falls by wolfgangstaudt@My Modern Met
Comments about this poem (@ Cry a River by Sadiqullah Khan )
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