The languor of the sight
The flower’s bloom akin
Rose’s water enough sprinkled
Rise -else on my face, open eyes.
A memory’s haunting dream
Wisemen’s sermons; wisdom’s word,
Conscious bespeaks, suppresses desire.
Wither wait, to the dust once
In flames, or vulture’s meal,
For a doomsday’s reward
Who decides what is good and bad?
Hand in hand the fair deal
Knowest thou, we shall never be back.
Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
October 27,2013.
Another Evening Rose, by Marquis DeAhhs @ Deviantart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem