Came across this magnificent piece of poetry by Agha Shahid Ali in his book The Veiled Suite. Feel the need to reproduce it here. Link courtesy falstaff.
I wait for him to look straight into
my eyes
This is our only chance for
magnificence.
If he, carefully, upon this hour of
ice,
will let us almost completely
crystallize,
tell me, who but I could chill his
dreaming night.
Where he turns, what will not
appear but my eyes?
Wherever he looks, the sky is only
eyes.
Whatever news he has, it is of the
sea.
No comments:
Post a Comment