When all wrapped I in thought of thee,
The fair aspect of her cold repose,
That by night the star hath rent
Her enchanting looks to the world;
And to my mind gives goosebumps,
E'ery beauteous form in timeless tide,
Too young to die, the song of eternal silence!
Where but to debarr at heaven's gate,
My bride! has made my old days anew,
Grows young again through such tender touches,
Which from thy brow hath plucked so fair a rose,
My Lord's hand, too, is wet in blood bath.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights(C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday, March 06,2014 3: 40: 48 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem