Oh My soft-moaning Romance
With tranquil lute!
Fair plumed mist!
Queen of my heart!
Make melodious this rainy day.
Shut up you idiot phone, and be mute:
Bubye! for once again the fierce dispute,
Between curse and heartfelt clay
I must burn through;
Humbly once more in the assay.
The bitter-sweet of this Shuhabain fruit
Poet and a cloud of sind,
Sire of our deep eternal theme,
Through the old forest
I am gone.
Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new eagle wings to fly.
© Shuhab Abro