A love poem by Ayub, in the tradition of the Romantics, in Different Truths
How I have escaped
From the illusions of her lips!
On her grayish eyebrows
Were throbs of the untold mystery?
In the depth of her eyes
Blossomed pleasures of seven colours,
On the right cheek of her was a reverent
Demand of a kiss in the contracted mole.
In the waves of wind,
Coming from the half open window,
The wild dance of the soft curly black locks,
Pulsation of touches
Rustling in the pores of delicate fingers,
No one knows how much implicit
Infusing in my impatient heart,
The brown haired enchantress of Caucasus bound me
From each and every angle
In her unspoken miraculous elegance,
And I found myself molten in fragrance
Of her soul, sound, and structure,
Each drop of the touch of her silence
Kept quenching my thirsty throat,
Ran into my streams of blood.
When the rustling, moonlit-night,
Cling to the nude golden body
Of the day,
I don’t remember.
How many centuries I’ve spent,
I know not.
I’m still mesmerised how I have escaped
From the illusions of her lips!
©Ayub Khawar
Photos from the Internet
#Poem #RomanticPoem #Delicate #Lips #Silence #Fragrance #DifferentTruths
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