Dawn
A
Aftab Alam
0
Altın Yaprak
‘Tis neither yours nor mine
Beyond the measures,
Poor, rich or moderate
Pray, its sunny morns shine.
White curtain well knit
With silky thread,
Came on enticed for the bread,
Fit, where ye supposed to fit.
Whole night dreams whispered
Whole night flew far and rolled
Played in the void field, starry dark.
LO! my thought and mind whimpered
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş