What makes thou think of eyes so blind
in the late evening?
death's toll is too high at midnight lease
of what hath passed o'er in a twilight dream,
that in largess of some thought o'er the dale,
slowly drifting away from the sand dunes;
this world of my shipwrecked dreams
against thine holy eyen at Minerva's golden brow:
where I my feet hath tread upon the mundane shell,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown to e'er melting snow,
our queen shall wear her head to play a hunch for the parade,
ere I confide thee my love of e'ery fig leaf in autumn,
fills thy most high deserts, above a sandhurst,
hear ye not what the stars in secret influence comment,
heaven-ward bent that soldier's grave unknown,
needest no art and craft of a woman that crow's quill beside.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, December 04,2015 5: 51: 21 PM
Friday, December 04,2015 5: 11: 27 PM
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Friday, December 04,2015 5: 46: 49 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem