Death Poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Death
The Deity of Death
Never sleeps,
Roves from the morn to the eve,
She makes many turns in search
Of lawns and lanes,
And fills with the beautiful flowers
Her clumsy creel,
If you ask “What have you done with the flowers? ”
She shows heaps of dust.
Written by Qayyum Tahir
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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5/4/2024 6:56:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
