If I were a thought;

As merry as spring,

And if I were,

A nightingale,

I shall be a fie pleasure,

And share thy joy in colour and pale,

Then comes the woe of mighty autumn,

Your eyes shed the leaves old,

Although faraway off from you,

Yet I feel the pain

Thee go through.

But there is a gap,

A tragic phase,

Between my love

And the charm of yours,

The distance remains

And thy decease;

More than the spring

Is my sorrow, my pain!

Copyright © 2001 Khan, Khalid Raza