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urdu poetry

very well, you liberals
under the harvest moon
birds against the april wind
i know not where
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
it tells of good old times
melancholy, blue it was
thou unrelenting past
rocked in the cradle of the deep
when the hours of day are numbered
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
to some the fat gods
now for a brisk and cheerful fight

 



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