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urdu poetry

i stood by the open casement
the darkness
stern cold man
i am old and blind
the air is like a butterfly
some one complained to the master
a pen of steel
day is done
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
green afternoon serene and bright
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
why then, must we see?

 



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