Come my love,
Come my Cashmere,
Before the cup of life is filled,
You aren't no man's land,
Let me crawl a little,
On the thorns of life,
Before I fall and fail in love.
What in man's nature,
You do love I know,
From all before health and wealth.
O' frail! O' fragile! O' brittle!
On what of your promises,
One can feed to believe,
But a poor strangled,
In the web of love,
When the men of world,
Break into, to enjoy,
The regime of beauties,
Dew pearled, pomegranate cheeks,
And the glance of radiant glow:
Like a black cloud cherishing,
Lavishly on the frost snow of moon.


© Saadat Ali Khan Noahani