Posted by: Ron DuBour | November 17, 2016

Dawn. — ~by Ziauddin Bulbul


 

 

Dawn. —

Dawn. —
Around me —
touching the corrugated tin-shed roof
From oven thin layer of smoke is floating.
I’m as if living in a house of steam.
A patient.

Light pain of ailment akin to pleasure
Bedim me in this early morning of winter.
I wish I could wake you up in the following summer !

You are not in vicinity for a long time almost a year
In my remembrance you appeared today
like that forgotten river
On the bank of which we used to spend most time together!
Now in this winter I’m again counting waves of that river
And looking for you my sweetheart and dearest dear.


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