By Zubair Arif Shah

Look around

to a beautiful bride

that my homeland is,

unloved,

she sobs for her beloved to come

to caress her tresses

to wipe her tears,

 of cypresses and tulips

withering away.

She waits for a touch of love

 to sing her to sleep,

of mountains and rivers

trembling in pain.

O look around

to grieving eyes

that my homeland is

waiting at the threshold,

her feathers of life

drifting away.

Look around

to a bride in distress,

of jasmines and roses

deprived of the sun,

and of petals

blowing away.

(Zubair Arif Shah is Student at Jamia Millia Islamia)

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