I dreamt a dream yester-night,
With an account of dejection,
With a shade of disappointment,
And some references of tears,
When it broke there was nothing.
Then again I dreamt a dream,
With the colours of pleasures,
With fragrances of spring,
And some references of light,
When it broke there was nothing.
I found the final fact,
Life is nothing but sinking voices,
Sometime grief-ridden,
And sometimes confidant of delights.
Written By Sumaira Baqra
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem