By Zubair Arif Shah

Look around

to a beautiful bride

that my homeland is,


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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