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)
