The Poem Inscribes You Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

I don’t do,
My poem inscribes you in her lines,
It inscribes the delicacy of candles of your hands,
Prudence and farsightedness of your symphonic beauty.

My sweet,
It inscribes melancholy of my days,
Hurriedness of viewing the way
From you may come

The poem is mine,
But in the pauses of pulsation I find
Soft fall of your steps and all contours,
It inscribes dots, lines, circles,
Symbols and the chapters of your beauty,
It inscribes morns and eves of your glowing forehead,
On whiteness of the paper,
Sometimes composes a theme,
Out of your thick locks,
And sometimes makes a verse,
Out of your smoldering breaths,
Sometimes steals the title,
From the warmth of your blood,
Counsels me for union with you,
On the banks of your eyes, lips and countenance,
My sweet, for the sake of me
In such a manner, my poem inscribes you.

Written by Ayub Khawar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar