What else, my all wits go wild,
Possessed by beauty, on lovelorn walk
And the tresses’ soft fall, of the dark hair,
The profound presence on the way
But whence the trick lies on your face,
In your eyes, O the sculptor’s weathered hand,
Or I behold the immensity below the midnight
Pearl-white glaze, shining through the stars.
You held me before in your glance,
And by the locks like chains you bind me forever
And forever I remain a freedom’s prisoner.
Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
February 25 2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem