Existence


midnight

Our existence is temporary  just like a bubble,
This exhibition of the colorful world is an illusion like mirage.

How can I express the softness of her lips,
They are just like rose petals.

I rush to her door again and again (in hope of having a glimpse of her,
My anxiety has reached its peak.

When she heard my voice, she said,
This voice is just like the voice of that wretched man the poet.

O Meer! The drowsiness in those dreamy eyes,
Is just like that of wine

*MEER

 

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