It's all pure,
Lest thou think it alloyed.
I have brought it with my all beings-
The compelled forehead handed me;
It's shining roundel.
Its shape shows;
It is made of with great zeal.
Take this nose-ring ruby,
That fell with my heart beating,
Take a stock; it was wet with my sighs.
The big round ear rings
Are tired now for touching cheeks too much.
They are ready to pay;
The cost of my poverty.
Take it and weigh,
Time changes its values.
It will not be so forever
Not too much;
I will reduce its slight weight,
And bear the polish-cost myself.
I believe in profit
Only on my sale.
May god bless thou!
What thou are to snatch from whom?
Who is already himself snatched!
If thou sale the ring too!
My labour would be no more!
As there is slump now.
The ring is the only relic
Of manzar's love.
Youth hath left me to die;
Yet the story is going on!
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Comments about this poem (Goldsmith by manzar jahangir )
- The Beast, Shannon Paterson
- Mode Of Poetry, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Gathering Compensation, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- 2 of A Kind, Josep Rodriguez
- पाऊस ओथंबुन वाहत असताना..., Amit Anjarlekar
- sometimes we all, Ben Paynter
- Difficult to return, gajanan mishra
- Life Is, Andy Caldwell
- Amn't Gone!, Sir Toby
- There Is Nothing In Me, Shalom Freedman
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