Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 2, 2016

The night~by Ziauddin Bulbul



The night

that fell off like flowers
You please don’t trample it.
Every night isn’t aromatic
All darkness can’t be able to bring
the soft and lusty spring.

I’m the wood-farer
of night,
I’ve lost the direction
of my site
remaining besotted
with the love
of darkest night.

Untold thorny nights
have raptured me,
Touch of how many
wetted and foggy
cold nights have pierced
my rough and tumble body,
with the spur of ice bite
yet I won’t like to go
towards the daylight.

Each night exudes
touching my eyes
sprayed fragrances
into my conscience.

Don’t you glean
those befallen
at least one from
your foot way or sight ?

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