Of such odd sightings in reverse reflexion,
that of no compare,
of darkened days her beauty's fair;
God forbid! ere I e'er think on thee,
my love of eyes so blind,
needest no light at sunset of the evening sky
o'er the wall on high,
too deep for woe against bloody tyrant time,
to my mind still in heaven's high bower:
this world of thy most high deserts,
of e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind with pen-pricked angels,
ah, but to thee suffice by the sweat of thy brow,
all dappled things of vine-ivy to some rivulet blue,
From mother-earth arise in the backyard of my garden,
of ages that are dead beyond the sunrise,
has a hold me height to that day of unaltered eye.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, July 03,2015 8: 44: 11 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem