MS (25-11-1960 / Pakistan)

The Descending Sun

Unheeded forsaken beauty,
With a faint pale deep-golden countenance,
Looks behind as if annoyed
On going through the dismal experience
Of the day, looking down beneath
Upon the hilarious, uproarious world,
Where upon the several spots
Smoky mushrooms rise,
Wrapping the Earth from all sides around
With sable murky blankets
Impeding lights;
Or of glancing at the spectrums
Of human blood, mixing into mud,
Descends consumed depressed glowering
Deciding not to come back again
Into the aching painful zones;
But the next morn re-ascends
Refreshed with washed features
Radiant, all silvery glaring,
To accomplish the assigned job
Of sweeping the scrap of blackness.
This is how the office of God goes on,
Playing hide and seek
The Dark chases the Light
And the Light defeats the Dark,
As seamen prey upon the shark.

by Muhammad Shanazar

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