Listen to the wind
gawl its whirling,
a myterious amity so fervid
of two wings, of same bird
unheard to unseasoned heart.
Who wrote the lyrics?
who composed the music?
whose lobes could see?
whose heavens could hear?
Who is this 'Hu'
the pen confronted once,
wailing till date for rented tip.
See now how the puffs
of heaven are wasted away
as the Beloved Gems glasses all
into bits heaped in hem,
for a garland of love
a devotee knows his pick.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mushtaque, such a sublime poem👍👍👍