| By AmirRizwan,
on 19-02-2007 22:48
|
Views : 1283  |
Favoured : 79 |
Published in : , Poems |
Here I am, cap in hand, beggar that I am,
Looking for You, in darkness of night,
Wandering the dusty streets of old Nizam.
From tightly closed window shutters, streaks of light. . .
Looking for You, in darkness of night,
. . . escape, casting their happy illuminations
From tightly closed window shutters, streaks of light. . .
And we, not knowing our final destinations.
. . . escape, casting their happy illuminations
On a lonely dirt street, on a buildings frieze.
And we, not knowing our final destinations;
No one knows, no one sees. . .
On a desolate dirt street, on a buildings frieze,
A mans dark shadow as if drafted with a pen. . .
No one knows, no one sees,
What is in the hearts of men.
A mans dark shadow as if drafted with a pen,
Wandering the dusty streets of old Nizam.
What is in the hearts of men?
Here I am, cap in hand, beggar that I am.
Last update : 19-02-2007 22:48
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