When at last,
In that window
The morning spring will open her eyes,
And when the bower will blossom,
The flower of union out of the dream,
When the colours will undress themselves,
Hiding behind the eyes,
And when fragrance caressing
Dreamy rims of the lips
Will beget the glow of tactility.
When at last,
The autumn tide contracting
In the shadow of your anchal will steal
The genuine blossoms of the spring.
Written by Ayub Khawar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truly beautiful, peaceful poem, Mohammad. I enjoyed reading. Thank you :)