Poems are flying within thy morning breeze
Becoming rhythm of heart poems are plying
Perhaps; I forget that-
I am not the alphabets of the poems
I am not the words of the poems
I am not the verses and rhymes of the poems
Here, in the pit of lushest pair lips
Thy letter infatuates me
Thy dancing dimension arrests me
Thy silent penning mood jails me
I forget-
The name of poems is not thy kisses
The name of poems is not my lust trace
Poems can fly
Poems can ply
Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem