On tiptoes, O swift night,
Hidden from the stars nigh
Upon western winds from the sight.
From the weary noon's tread,
On the black skinned steed,
To the sleep, of child sweet eyed.
Over cities and seas and hills,
Carry thy mantle of moon thrills.
Upon dark hair, streaked as shrills.
On lingering pain, in my breast.
To the fair one's eyes bestowest,
Dreams none other than the best.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
February 26,2013.
Women Circle Dancing:
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem