Hafez would trade Bukhara and Samarkand,
For the love’s mole on the chin.
Worth the war, a country on globe,
For a century erase, the diamond’s weight.
From battles in ball to battlefields –
Had I not been a poet, not a license,
For whatever cost, ride the horse,
Or win her hand across the lands.
Happy fair, let me tell you,
O flamboyance, the mole on her cheek,
Is a melanoma, a cancerous bleed.
-To Joanne Herring
Sadiqullah Khan
Gilgit
August 11,2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem