Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 22, 2017

The dawn.—~by Ziauddin Bulbul


 

 

The dawn.—

Image may contain: one or more people, tree, outdoor and nature

The dawn.—
Refined smoke of stove is floating
around—
touching the thatched roof of corrugated tin-shed;
I’m living, as if, confined in a steam-house. Patient.

In this morn slight pain of disease
seems to be pleasant,
which has ensconced me.
I wish I could woke you up by a single call, exactly
in this morn of early summer!

You aren’t in the vicinity
Neither in the field of messenger
nor in reality —
But in my remembrance
I’m recollecting your presence
Akin to a forgotten river
In the bank of which I used to sit on with silent pleasure.

Now in the creepy winter
I’m again listening those lost bits of moments of the river.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: