Hear ye not full-throttle song of a thrush
that in wild ecstasy of pure heaven,
small boats that assail with no destiny in sight;
this world of my shipwrecked dreams
that star beside, in bitterness cold thy iron car,
o'er the bleak horizon through rose-coloured glasses,
some such withered leaves of book in autumn
against the westerly wind unto my age-old love
hath rent at midnight lease in waking hour:
a vertigo of yore dream, ere in the morning dew her eyes be wet,
that crow's quill of foul fawning bay at my door,
slowly drifting away from golden banks of silken-satin.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday, August 20,2015 5: 32: 01 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem