Full glorious sun of our common affairs
is but a mere fallacy of old,
besmeared in worn-out time
of woe-begone days my shipwrecked dreams,
no dark can e'er illumine, my love,
a fajita with some toppings, all dressed up
in your thought my mind,
that goes loitering around the world:
of thy most high deserts at sunset of the evening sky,
heaven-ward bent in the mellowing year of spring,
full ripe gourd of some hazel nuts in my account;
a shrub of wrinkled lip in my split words of what I write
beside the bed of oak that day of unaltered eye o'er the dale
of foul fawning bay at my door with pen-pricked angels,
e'ery falling star to e'er melting snow,
o'er the wall on high by two lovers dead.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, November 11,2015 2: 35: 54 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem