At the onslaught of winter stripped of their possessions trees stand in silent prayer.
Grey clouds hang low just above the black trees as if to kiss them goodbye
The milky white glow of moon creates a longing
Is it possible to reach out to unknown?
I get not answer in that cold and still night.
Flowers huddled together still spread their fragrance
Soon the merciless frost of winter will kill the bloom.
Gofers in my backyard have created mounds of dirt to settle deep in warm earth.
From my kitchen I watch a little spider trying to sneak through the kitchen door.
It spreads a chill in my spine.
When and where life will close its door upon us?
In the rush of life the question gets pushed aside
Like the unopened junk mail
I turn my thoughts to burning flames of fireplace.
The warmth of life circulates in room with an orange glow
Come spring life will shower again its grace upon my back yard
Returning with flowers, fruits and leaves.
When and where life will close its door upon us? Zauq Dehelvi says... Ab to ghbra ke ye kahte hayn ke mar jaen ge, Mar ke bhi chain na paya to kidher jayen ge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When the chill of winter forces us to close our doors against the further freezing wind we hope with all our heart to return the life frozen life again in the warm spring sprouting and blooming hopes and confidence. Thank you