Me needest no witness in thy name,
that in whose enchanting slogans of disparity,
not least be worthy of thy perusal,
this world of a broken heart my shipwrecked dreams,
hath rent at midnight lease of eyes so blind, my love,
a star of thy most high deserts upon a barbed wire,
to e'er melting snow by the sweat of thy brow
against the mirror of thine holy eyen:
some such snowflakes in winter cold,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown
ere in the mellowing year of spring
o'er the wall on high by two lovers dead;
goes soaring high above the dale with pen-pricked angels,
that day of unaltered eye to eternal bliss in waking hour,
under the canopy of a hut of darkling inkpot in ruffled feathers,
that crow's quill at sunset of the evening sky, sweet maid.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, August 07,2015 7: 52: 01 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem