By Sheikh Shabir Kulgami
Sitting next to me in the bus, my friend was brooding,
Where have we reached? He answered not.
Where are you, dear? Come back, come back, dear.
A stream of tears flooded down his eyes;
I am poor, yet I have entered the ship of wedlock
What then, dear? What makes you drop these diamonds down your eyes?
I fear, I fear I can’t make her happy,
I didn’t have money to buy her a ring;
I didn’t have money to buy her the necklace.
Yet, I plunged into the smithy,
I am a freak, I am a foreigner,
What though I have a family of my flesh and blood?
They call her skinny which is a bombshell,
Her flood of tears and sobs and sobs part ne’er company;
The wedlock is a mirror under a sledgehammer-
The mirror in pieces but for my and her flight into oblivion.
By Sheikh Shabir Kulgami
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