Something is there - a silent wound!
This life looks like a poem

In the world of burgeons, I live forlorn
And this Forlornliness looks my world

Over my Shadow, I keep my feet
And the dermis of skin feels too much softness

While I check the pulse of moon
The hot breathes of night- I get my results

Let the pain of narration smells forever
As it totally seems the tradition of heart!


_Poet : Gulzar
_Translator : Shamshad