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urdu poetry

par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
une pensée gentiment solennelle
nous qui se sont tenus
pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité
c'est l'arsenal
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
ce qui je vous doivent
substance de la lune
je réside à la montagne de table
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
je ne brûle aucun encens
j'ai gagné la course
le maître des destins humains suis moi
mélancolie, bleu il était

 



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