Neither does the sunrise,
Cast any spell,
Nor does the yonder descending star,
Sketch any image.
From the sky-kissing,
Rocky peaks of mountains,
To the soft soil of the earth,
Reigns, governs some icy-season,
The wing-folded birds are sitting,
Unprotected, exposed in the boughs.
And I in the patio of my home,
Though much indulged, yet sit
Deserted, desolate in mood.
Unrecognizable are the days,
Neither does the sunrise,
Cast any spell,
Nor does the yonder descending star,
Sketch any image
No comments:
Post a Comment