Withered Rose

A version after Iqbal

By what words can I deem you
desire of the nightingale's heart?
The morning breeze was your cradle,
the garden a tray of perfumes.

My tears rain like dew,
and in my barren heart your ruin
an emblem of mine,
my life a dream of roses.

By Rafiq Kathwari, whose debut collection, In Another Country, is available here.