People say that I

through bitterness of my situation

I pretend myself to be the picture of wasted thought

I love cynicism

I am posing myself as a sufferer!

I have nothing to do with raw poetry

Romance doesn’t suit me.

What is a “Ghazal” ?

The name of the teenage ideas!

The hearts’ glasses are so delicate

That only a peak of a sound can break them

The lamps of their alienated egos

extinguish with a blow of breath

Life is field of colors

They don’t know

You have your own style..

His passions are different.

My talk is diverse.

All people have a common way of life.

This is an ocean of longing.

Shining waves have become

your breath.

My desires crept on the sand like a scorpion.

The whirlwind of gold and wealth has suited us.

Spectators themselves have become the show of an illusion.

I too am a criminal many lust packs

Belong to me

My name has been carved

on the walls of a castle

longing for comfort.

My beloved!

I salute your father.

He has discovered for you

a grand palace

in a city flooded with luxuries

I can understand your indifference.

You have made another your beloved.

His picture was never a part of your dream

I search throughout the world.

Those areas the “Parvez” possessed,

soaked in the lust of “Shereen”,