The nights of hope
The days of patience
Lamentations in spring
Memories in autumn
Desires not spoken
Dreams gone wild
Life like many mirrors
Reflections magical
Illusions again
Festivities every day
Black lines of her eyes
For visions to visit
The goblet is old
Intoxication is new
The ripening buds
The bee alas is tired
The candle is aflame
The moth cannot fly
The lips for a kiss
The hands cannot touch
The music is live
The body cannot move
The times are good
The times are bad
Islamabad
14/4/2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem