For my grieving heart, in awe struck,
The bit of sin, though uncommittal
To him my colors of grace, an ancient
Threaded coat in silk, a Wakhi ensemble –
And her feeling the inside, exhaling breathe,
A sigh would need smoke and vapor,
For the rain was insistent and night dark.
For her the trespass, but the aging soul,
Beholding a sight, -could ownership and concern,
From other end of the globe, and we live,
In a togetherness, and would my gratitude,
Ever wane, or I forget, a sharing more humane?
Or a dear friend, who says, ‘your heart still alive’,
But I ask forgiveness, for done cannot be undone,
And the moment’s aromous presence, alas!
For the senses to be in asana, how it could be?
-On my smoking a cigarette
Courtesy: My friends
Sadiqullah Khan
Gilgit
August 17,2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem