Apple Babe Poem by AFFAQ NABI

Apples, the red, ripe, and rosy ones swinging above my head,
Let's come, it's harvest time! come Marconi, no fee.
Come hurry, young and old; all are uninvited.
I know you are lovely, and you knew me too, come
Breeze from the far pebbled seas beside the hills, with the
sunbeams
hugging and dancing in the apple tree.

Come to the apple festival with your kin and the kids.
Look! the painted fowls with amber beaks,
Making our needs in the wet fields
'May the Lord take us in the right direction
Thou art our alone protection'
Apples! so ripe, so red, and the dirt free
The day is pleasant, ah it pleases me.

Where are you, dear Emily, alone and carefree?
In the sweet shade of an apple tree,
Come here nearer to me and show some empathy.
Walk on the dewy grass in bare feet.
You've become quite lean; you will gain some energy.
It's only luck's sport; in one's flute
We observe the sweetness of liquor,
And someone's flute doesn't play after a repeat.
Give heed, and I will tell you a
lullaby

Look straight at me with your lustrous eye.
And behold at that Haron brooding on the bough of an apple tree
And her wingman is on alert like a royal guard, ah what a
loyalty.
See, a swarm of parrots, some
of the dales, some from the plains with their loved ones,
doing their lunch on the branch of an apple.
Ah, pleasent songs spring on the tips of their tongues,
and summer winds joyfully beat their drums.
It seems Apple baby has held a feast,
Wow! It's like her birthday.
Guest birds take off their wings and go home.

My friends fill up your pouches.
as much as you can take
for your kin and loved ones,
and for all those pathetic who afford no launches.
The sun set upon the crown of the evening sky,
And happy moon climb on her throne,
Marconi! let's return by the singing stream.
Tell me about a past dream, till we may cross over
the sober millennium stream,
Let my friends stay steadfast,
believe in God; he is the first and the last.

Apple babe! have you any complaints about the human errors?
or anything about the forthcoming fears,
I see some signs in your tears,
I will pen your story in my travel book.
O! apple babe O blue-night heron!
hold us in your prayers.
Apple babe! when shall we hail again?
'Come in the swan in the pettering sounds of merciful rain.'
Or when musk Deer'll hail to her weekend swing,
by the stream, over the mead.
where glittery corals often breed.