When life’s to be but a reverie’s tale,
by Mirza Beg
What words yet to reveal my restless pen?
For all depictions died through age’s grail,
‘Forementioned, by time’s cruel rejection.
And thoughts, which delight with adoration,
An age’s souls, dies in ‘nother time’s ken.
And e’en this thou read won’t the fate outrun.
Will night be end if stars and moon is lost,
Or birds forlorn with days bereaving sun?
For none waits for none, none stays unalter’d,
In this some words are writ, some unletter’d,
Which lives fore’er, which not with times accost.
And I shall live with them as they with me,
If not, then let this word my last word be.