Shiv Kumar Batalvi (23 July 1936 - 7 May 1973 / Punjab / British India)
O woe! The sky is thin, listless.
O woe! The stars are withered, extinguished.
O woe! The winds are still, dead.
O woe! The world is inhabited by graves.
O woe! Today, words have turned to stone.
O woe! Again and again, my heart swells, bursts, melts.
O woe! Do not ever become like me.
O woe! The waters of love are poisonous,
O woe! The road is long and harsh,
O woe! And ankle deep in thorns.
O woe! Here, you are robbed of everything .
O woe! Even death is not for you.
O woe! Today, the songs of love are bitter.
O woe! But sweet is this poison, sweet.
Comments about this poem (O Woe by Shiv Kumar Batalvi )
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