- - - - - -
until he be part of my existence.
The flower half-opened its lips,
[So] all stealth of colour may not be
blamed upon the butterfly.
He favours faithfulness out of fear,
this girl shall die
I shall cleanse his lashes with my shawl
[So] the dust of this day's journey,
may not enter tomorrow's!
Through whom shall I send him today's prayer?
Ambassador, air, star -
None visits his abode!
[This is english translation of Parvin Shakir's poem: Khushbu hai vo to]