I could see her sit still by the dull lake,
edged upon the horizon in deep azure,
all mascara of her eyes to places far-off;
that remotely old village in the background,
lit with a star of thy most high deserts,
sighting smokey suburbs by the shabby island,
that in trash and tinsel hides from eternals,
half-so-blind through e'ery looking eye:
of my shipwrecked dreams I most despise
than what the stars in secret influence comment;
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown, my woe-begone love,
not least be worthy of thy perusal at sunset of the evening sky.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, September 09,2015 5: 33: 13 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem