Of such subtle thought that in reality
of the mind,
oft goes blind of his own shadow,
that in wilderness of pure heaven,
ah, but from another shore to arise,
this world of waking hour,
of eternal silences in the mellowing year of spring
at sunset of the evening sky that star
of thy most high deserts, my love,
has some dry leaves of autumn in rosemary garden,
that crow's quill beside, no dark can e'er illumine,
of unattended looks to that day of unaltered eye.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, October 12,2015 3: 57: 37 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem