My heart wishes that I should pick
Thorns scattered on your path,
I should exchange my pleasures with your sorrows,
And drink all hotness of the sunlight
On your path;
Paleness that gave hot winds to your rosy face,
I should change it into the crimson of twilight,
But how,
All prudence is vain in front of the density,
Even then one should be hopeful,
No one knows when the season changes
And rains pour down to wash the wounds.
Written by Dr. Nisar Turabi Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
............I enjoyed this beautiful poem....thank you for translating