Of fair born love her beauty's looks
would still becharm the skies,
that grow by the time to eternal bliss,
of woe-begone days my shipwrecked dream;
fills me with thy most high deserts, sweet maid,
ere I hath writ in vain at sunset of the evening sky,
of snow-capped myrtle by the sea-ashore,
that day of unaltered eye to my thought is wed;
from out of no where arise, arise in my bed of crimson joy,
of golden tress his hair upon the strand of still waters,
slowly drifting away from the sand dunes to e'er melting snow,
of fathom-five thy battled bones, ah, too soon shall settle on the brow.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Tuesday, September 08,2015 5: 21: 48 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem