The gentle breeze, the bright sun,

The blooming flowers: the colour and smell,

The ’gale which sings the song of spring,

Around a pave, they all dwell:

The rough, the short, I step on it,

And behold a beauty, lovelier than all:

The wide deep eyes, the face well-lit,

The long haired blonde, with curls on lock,

With spring on lips, the daisy I see,

The deer’s gaits get me on trail,

Man in black, what should not I be,

I become and move on the path of sin,

I walk and walk not knowing where to

And fall at once, the dark Pit,

In this I fall, never felt what ’as true?

No more is the chance, nothing can I do.

Copyright © 2001 Khan, Khalid Raza