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




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