December

In dozen of the months
He always stands distinct,
I don’t know why December is always different
From others at last,
With appalled mornings,
Gloomy evenings,
Tear-prone noons,
Engrossed nights,
The season of warm shawls,
Faded lights,
Recollection of bygone times,
Sometimes
Of difficult riddles,
Sometimes
Of parting melancholy
Sometimes
Of hopes of reunion,
I don’t know why December is always different
From others at last.

Written by Shazia Akbar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar

by Muhammad Shanazar

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