Game of Chess: Part I
For Those Dark Eyes and Zafraan Face
So, the dream is over
We all now go on our way
One mother sleeping in the grave
Three brothers off to see a new day
Let us raise our glasses
For the hour is getting late
Soon the dew will vanish with the Sun
And we’ll all be accepting our fate
The room now speaks of your perfume
The Sheraab speaks no more
We’re dancing to the last waltz
To a tune we used to hear before
Come with old Asrar
Come and sip some more wine
It’s been far too long
We’ve been hanging on the vine
-- Sometime, somewhere in England
2 comments:
WELCOME to the world of blogs. I am curious - for such a patriotic Bengali, why is your title in Urdu?
If my love for poetry in Urdu or any other language defines me as an 'unpatriot' then I wonder why being Bengali or Bangladeshi, people listen to Hindi songs or Hindi music and/or cheer India or Pakistan in a Cricket match against say Australia.... Read all the 16 Ghazals and then comment, rather than reading a part... Thanks for your welcome note... We were all expecting something from you and Samiha after the death of Amma eight months ago.... Guess you are busy with life as we all are! Thanks for your comment, and hope this finds you in good health
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