So now where oft the mind is stirred,
so sickening to the bones my love,
goes loitering around the world;
else in simple fold my vain endeavour,
that by thought is bound by thee,
my words against myself to prove virtuous
than I in thy diminished sense of being,
brings forth nothing but to my sightless view
this world, with disdainful look I most despise
the remembrance of past woe in dismal shades,
hath darkened my days of painted sky at break of day.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
*Republished
Date Created: Tuesday, March 25,2014 2: 10: 22 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem