Give me happy news,
Of a hundred drowned men,
In the happiest tides of ocean.
Of the men hanging to your thousand,
...
Of the blue moon, crescent like,
An arrow head, hanging over me.
The landscaped night was once,
A waterfall of desire on a clenched soul.
...
The solitary bird sits on widow aisle,
The rain has bathed the walls.
You and I sit together.
The blue water is running down the pane.
...
The rosy flush of wine;
Before the emptiness takes you.
The silken thread of time,
Not too long to go.
...
The rusted door there,
Is closed on a sill of water;
Jagged and shining white,
The window blind is down.
...
Move on, with the silent conversation,
The unheard sound is music, speech a poem.
The serpent revolves in the curvaceous curve.
As the lock of hair weaves through my heart.
...
O Virgil! On your joyous journey,
Put out your dark Inferno.
From the beasts three headed in mercy.
...
The sun settled behind the Margalla Hills,
The ample night's dream in drizzle.
In the bamboo trees and behind,
The pond of water is overflowing.
...
This place has a vault of sky,
Is it limitless in a walled pavilion.
The one who sits outside,
Is the homeless treasure.
...
A hundred and a thousand idols,
The forehead enough bowed on earth.
The habit would not break otherwise,
A mindful moment with heaven's sigh.
...