Oh, that man! the western avant-garde,
In whose footsteps the rest of us follow;
That you may be the next, beware, my lord!
No first man is ever born to do this,
And such a way in reverse reflexion
That things would start up again, textilian,
In the language of unform'd words:
I remember him in my prayers of silence,
But I have no wish to be that man,
Nor in his company can stay for long;
For he would become another man soon
Before anyone can recognize the identity
Of his unrecorded Being in the register,
While unnam'd lies with me his dark secret.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, August 15,2012 5: 11: 48 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem