What I can bring to the surface of a page,
is far too less drown'd in a drop of tear,
dried of ink; than what in fathom-five hath sunk,
too deep for woe to tell thee of thy tale;
which if in a glass of wine for me you pour,
thy sweet lot more unto my view for inspection,
that no less heaven in my words, full of signt;
and where the mirror reflects thee not thy face,
the spirit evaporates too soon, pigeonhol'd through the sky;
the crow's quill on a night-cap takes flight
from Trafalgar Square, and a flock of pigeons
in the garden sit no more; nor eat crumbs by the window,
but in love's girdl'd loins of silken-satin,
unsettl'd round about the common earth again.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, October 29,2012 2: 17: 39 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
from Trafalgar Square, and a flock of pigeons in the garden sit no more; nor eat crumbs by the window, but in love's girdl'd loins of silken-satin, unsettl'd round about the common earth again. very fine use of words and expressions. thank u dear poet. tony