I, too, find myself at odds
with what I can see not
to unhindered scope of light,
that by dark bewails the night
through e'ery pouring shadow;
my love in hurtlings of past woe,
more bright to illumine ere thine unweird eye
than e'ery vain thing in vain words I write:
of ages that are dead to my eyes so blind,
away from out of sight his same old facade,
flawed in e'erything that hangs a picture on the wall
against a pastoral background,
this world that abides by thee alone,
of smokey suburbs by the shabby island,
oft printed twice by far removed from thee
e'erything so fair from thy fairest brow;
else in simple fold my vain endeavour,
I behold in false pretense of vague impressions
e'ery flower upon a barren heath.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, October 08,2014 7: 39: 01 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem