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MOHSIN EHSAN

To my love

What is there to ask O friend,
When a ghazal for long
Has been spreading her hair in the
Deserted wilderness of my heart.
With innocent eyes flower - like lips
and dark complexion
Though lesser in height, but her
steps are like floating clouds.
When she laughs, her lips look
Like a bunch of flowers,
(And) when she weeps, her tears
appear like dew
In loneliness, she talks to me
for hours together.
And when we meet in public,
she differs with me.
The flame of Shelley, the pain of
Keats and the sorrow of Eliot.
(All combine) in her conversation,
And appear as a question of literature.
I am satisfied that she loves me
from the core of her heart.
She is happy that good natured
Mohsin is her companion

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