Sibghatullah Khan (Jhang, Pakistan)

Death sounds like silence,
like the falling of Autumn leaves,
a sad, broken heart when it heaves,
like someone walking in a deserted street,
and Winter-snow falling in a pitch dark night.

Death sounds like nostalgia of the bygone days,
like parting time when words lose their skin,
like keeping quiet without being asked,
losing when you look like winning at last,
Like a curtain falling on the stage.

It's like coldness in love,
like failure when success is almost in sight,
like closing a long unwieldy sentence at once.
It's like a rendezvous of long-parted lovers,
an opportunity lost, an abrupt, unwelcome change.
It's like a call for status quo.