I feel not so cold and numb to the world all woe,
No vein can afford such a skipped beat,
That in solemn strain this barren rhyme;
Of royal blood that rose in my heart,
A drop of tear to wipe in summer's breathless rhyme;
I'll pick some sweet-scented flowers from love's note
To weave a wand of posies around your head:
For in whose enchanting slogans of disparity,
My bosom rends in attire of bewilderment;
Say not, a weasel hat on knees in ruffled feathers,
But which to revery of thy iron frame in fair aspect,
Still abides by thee alone to that day of unaltered eye;
Oft goes unchecked by what I write to my eyes so blind,
Away from out of sight upon the page is printed, printed.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, October 18,2014 9: 58: 35 AM
*Poem revised to 14 lines instead of 12 or 13, and line # 3 shifted to line # 8- -a few structural reshuffling has been made as well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem