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urdu poetry

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
lo! 'tis a gala night
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
the fragrance came
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
with her hair flaying wildly
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
death's nobility again
the long resounding marble corridors
i am in love with high far-seeing places
i fill this cup
two rows of cabbages
i bid them all farewell
see i give myself to you

 



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