Her Glad Grace

The blithe of May swings in the rainy gust,
Her tresses frisk and my heart was arrest.

I, dumb, leaned by woods, couldn’t speak a word,
She was dancing in glee like a Cuckoo bird.

Her ‘ Dupata ‘ waving in the air,
Her virgin bosom arousing the tender desire.

Perfume like that of Arabia scattered around,
Flowers smiling,birds calling her in melodious sound.

Oh Passions! I’m unable to control my regular irregular heartbeat,
I’m almost gathered to my forefathers for she is hot and sweet.

(Writer, Muntazir Mohi Ud Din)

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