WITHERED ROSE
by Mohammad Iqbal
With what words shall I call you
Desire of the nightingale’s heart?
In a Country of Roses
You were named Laughing Rose
Morning breeze your cradle
Garden a tray of perfumes
My tears rain like dew
And in my barren heart your ruin
An emblem of mine
My life a dream of roses
A reed plucked from its native soil
I sing sweet songs of souls in exile
Translated from the Urdu by Rafiq Kathwari / @brownpundit