And that crow's quill to infect the world with critic's eye,
Of solemn strain such mind upon a barbed-wire;
Still looking into the dark side above his head,
Where least I find, my love by thee most abounds,
To fill the empty space with titanic visions afar:
The red moon but wears the mask of ages that are dead
Against the vaulted sky by two lovers apart;
Of blind looks to my view his same old facade,
Oft makes me sick of this canker and a rose;
And through unintelligible light of a star,
Enlightened by the Archangel's brow,
Full many a day by night in beauty's cold repose.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, May 19,2014 1: 22: 25 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem