I went through one mountain and back through another
Fell by wind waves, these streets forlorn…
In your separation, my heart became an ocean
Nowadays unconsciously going up and down forlorn…
The Moon is free now; let’s decorate the dreams
Come to me as a “Butterfly” lest I will blaze forlorn…
Do come after the dusk or before dawn but come
Or you should come by your choice and see this DARMAN living forlorn…
During the discussion, touch on the name of Altaf Niyazi
Tell him that sometimes he was laughing forlorn…
And sometimes he was crying forlorn…
The Poem is a translation of an Urdu poem by Altaf Niyazi
This post first appeared on The Kashmir Pulse
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