Come with a thousand spans of separation; my barren self will wait in the shade....
Poems forever
By Oscar Wilde
It is full winter now: the trees are bare,
Save where the cattle huddle from the cold
Beneath the pine, for it doth never wear
The autumn’s gaudy livery whose gold
Her jealous brother pilfers, but is true
To the green doublet; bitter is the wind, as though it blew
From Saturn’s cave; a few thin wisps of hay
Lie on the sharp black hedges,
where the wain
Dragged the sweet pillage of a summer’s day
From the low meadows up the narrow lane;
Upon the half-thawed snow the bleating sheep
Press close against the hurdles, and the
shivering house-dogs creep
(Excerpt)
By Abid Agha
The train hummed softly,
café au lait cooling between us
in the dining car of borrowed time.
Steam rose from the cups,
slow and deliberate,
like feelings that had learned patience.
Café au lait rested between us,
creamy, warm, familiar,
holding the comfort of unsaid words.
Every sip carried a memory,
some borrowed from yesterday,
some still learning your name.
Outside, cities dissolved into motion,
fields stretched, lights blurred,
the world insisting on moving forward.
But here,
time folded itself quietly, listening.
Your hand found mine without urgency,
as if it had always known the way.
This moving café became our refuge,
a small, passing universe
where distance lost its meaning
and love sat close enough to breathe.
A whistle sighed in the distance,
memories leaned into each other,
and life softened.
Because in this dining car,
with coffee warm
and you beside me,
even the grey learned how to fade.
By Hafza Noor
I thought
it would be good:
to have that life,
forever.
A life you cherish,
a life you can lean on.
To have that feeling
of home.
They say
you cannot go on
like this,
with this life.
Create your own life,
or maybe your own home.
But then I think,
where would I lean then?
By Tallina Tallae
Under the clustered, starry sky,
constellations so divine,
tiny beads of precious stones.
Call me an astrophile
as I lie upon the ground for a while,
gazing at the miracles above,
not waiting for a shooting star,
not wishing for a change of fate,
because the vision before me
is enough to heal my soul
and nourish my mind.
Even from this far,
it leaves the window of my soul ajar.
By Aman Sadiq
You might live in distant lands,
beside your palm and date trees,
in the bosom of your native huts
or by the shore of dreary seas.
Yet we always live in imagination,
where no distance lingers long
and no hawkish man disrupts
the sweetness of the nightingale’s song.
The fair of love will always be held
as long as the darkest nights prevail,
and the stars will ever partake
in the dance and never fail.
Come with your thousand broken tales;
together we will resurrect the past,
and all that lies with drooping faces,
and we will fight to the very last.
Come with a thousand spans of separation;
my barren self will wait in the shade.
You may have heard the common saying
that bodies may part, yet love never fades.
