At dawn
When birds sing
Fluttering their wings
And dancing on tree tops
It is the vision of you
At noon
When wind blows
Soft across the fields
Offering sweet fragrance
It is the fantasy of you
At dusk
When sun retires
Behind the hunchback
Of the Ocean
It is the longing for you
At night
When stars rule the skies
Smiling down
Upon sleeping heads
It is the dream of you
And now
As the pen dances
To the melody
Of the strings of my violin
It is the memory of you.
And now As the pen dances To the melody Of the strings of my violin It is the memory of you. Dear Imam, The poem answers its name, truly; it never betrays its title, I daresay. I particularly got stuck to your last stanza. As my fingers search for the right keys while I type this, I have your last stanza in the mind.
Ahmed Last time I missed this poem. It is so beautifully expressed, simple and touching. Really I like to read it again. I give 10
wow this is truly stunning the violen, my favorite instrument. i loved how you wrote about it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
O how this muse have absorbed, still incite such deeds. The progression of thought is lucid. Thank you Imam.