A writer of grief is waiting for you in the Garden of my somber heart.
Who went mad in your love O laila.
I am caroling and crooning for you in the garden of my splintered life.
where I am bedecking the garden in my life for you to come.
There the flowers are whirling for you to come.
How entrancingly the garden smells for you to come .
I am decorating the wooden bench for you to come ,
where we will sit ,whispers and embrace each other,
The butterflies flapping the wings on the vivid blossoms.
Months have passed , My heart is contused ,
The teary eyes longing to see you Before the death ,
I desiderate to exult with you in the garden of my life,
Our ribbon hearts entangled together,
I asked How long will it last, she whispered
Forever, now Far away.
Spend the time with you, By which my sorrows would end,
And I would find ataraxia in the deep grave .
The sweetness of her voice will fetch me in sung peace.
By: Shahid Ul Islam
A law student at University of Kashmir & writes articles and poems regularly.
