The garment torn apart, ropes
Broken asunder. Waters, torrential
Flow above the embankments. Oceans
In your eyes, held by brim on lashes
Smile, ah! On your lips, would I see white
Pearls. Happiness, like the percussor’s fingers,
The tambourine dances, colors float, across
The horizon at nightfall, an urn in tavern,
From earth raised, dreaming heaven -
A cup more, to the soul of the great alcazaba,
The moment goes, before the habit is broken
Angel of death, wait, the inebriation is yet not over.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
November 26,2013.
“The religious inebriation of big cities.- Pantheism.
I am everyone; everyone is me.
Whirlwind.” Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) , French poet, essayist and art critic.
Our Man in Marrakesh @ HommeMode
Sadiqullah Khan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/torn-apart-25/
