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urdu poetry

nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
os arcos da ponte vermelha
como um homem despido mim vai
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
em e sobre
os céus que eram ashen e sober
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
mas alas, sonhos justos

 



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