Floatsam O' thee craddle crib tainted thou long sail over the mazarine clement sea, O' how thee forbid thou kinswoman to ease tulips shade their scents along thy alpine tree. Where the rubab's string sings cusp poetry spring O' where thou ghalib has lost far beyond In attan eve, thy streets are red mihrab and minbar frightened where thou sheaves of wheat around the mosque and hijri year underneath, alas! the erstwhile doctrines you sell over thou cold war skin.
O' thee ruthless king how thy (P/p)rime rests In peace why the azans even ring far bounded through his curshed shrine rifts; Children cry by the null mortarshell their mother had died father Is missing and their brother on neva returning runaway, their eldest sister has been lashed In back midst of the men, the parting tears In eyes and dusty breads on her wounded hand.
O' thee fires stay a little while on the cimmerian gale thou cuss may fell upon the tyrant- over the Kafir's head. You thee forasmuch ruler how dare you snatch the prophecy away of my friends, do lease my mighty words, cease the warlords suppress them. O' free thy cyclopian vehemence cyclophosphamide metaphors, rescue thy burnt sorcerer's eminence. O' thee my beloved land thy broods are In paradoxial pain, they flee to live they live In presence of your Grief, they die on your lap. O' why thou roads are red mihrab and minbar frightened where thou soothing sheaves of wheat around thy capracious Land.
I seek no grace untouched by blood, Lover Is my winter my holy fire In middle of the cold night. Her words, ring sweet as a chime of gold her words a poetry to my naked soul. She Is the girl of my dream whose words to me all victorian poetry. Her fair skin bright as Nazi lampshade hazel eyes deep and bright as the lunar arcade.
I dreamed her In a traditional attire In a blue Dangri was preaching an ancient dialect to cure the God In me, her hair divided In two clips crimson lip-paint and round ear-rings.
She promised me that she'll come back to me with strong hype sewed with the sea. But she comes not, may be she Is attained by someone better than me. Well, she Is my Lover the girl of my dream and I'm In love with her the way she whispers In my sleep, she Is my Lover the girl of my dream and I don't know how to ask her to be my forever Love Poetry.
Two roads diversed In a yellow wood the Jigsaw of unparalleled heaven, Oh God which one to choose. One took away the daisies along and other thought to wait for a day, nemesis of pristine words emphasised In raven cliche witchcrafts or wizardry or even cast my soul away alter my petrified eyes buoyant beyond the faraway. Cease a little while, O' Wind! O' The serpentine stream, be thou silent a while let my cry be heard over the topsy-turvy of paths, beyond the naked heaths let my runaway wanderer hear me.
Draped In my grief till the morning for a week and took the right way, for a second I forgot how to walk and could not feel at my heart left; where the pale tamarisk O' God fall like fork over the pale sanguine skin please tell me, where a deceased Lover can go by forgetting all memories. The daffodils laugh half, white tulip mocks me the gulmohors turn their red away when I sing them melancholy.
What he could be but he had chosen to be the Poet to find her In poetry, they laughed In glee at all his Jokes, for many a Joke had he the Love he bore to learn was In fault, In the dark he preached poesy. Such were the sounds over his wounded pride robbed In the sable garb of woe stucked In deep sorrows of lies sighs In awful voice beneath, mark the year and mark the night when the hacksaw ridge dwelled like a forlorned bravery. O' stay wild my moonchild, take the path of your own sorrows, pain, Love again to regain, laugh and Joy let be your confetti. Two roads diversed In a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel Both.