The Ghost
Remainder of gleam,
In the lamp –
The wind revolt,
Shakes it,
And the deserted lover was in his room,
Ghosts procession shake him,
He recalls a bright recently,
As dropp of fine rain –
On the tumblers,
And he remembers.
The hereafter is a parity,
And how did yesterday –
In a repose,
I rapt by a wine from aspiration,
He smells the perfume of –
Spread lilies,
He infatuates as butterflies –
In the forenoon,
And comes back a soul form sprit,
And the poet in his room,
Ghosts procession shake him,
Basim Al Aoda
June 2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem