What it matters if not in words I write,
And nothing more against light
Than what by love to thee suffice;
Which if spread by Muse's wing,
The stars from every corner would pick,
On their way back to heaven,
Whence while musing o'er the dale,
You may find this line already writ.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights(C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, January 19,2013 3: 00: 10 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem