The dreams are not merely dreams, <br />Though they are often considered the fantasies, <br />And futile vain imaginings of the mind; <br />Yet they portend the stuff for the future. <br /> <br />I dreamt once, I was on the route shingled long, <br />All alone with grimness I walked, <br />No one accompanied to share my pang, <br />It was almost dark, the time of sunset; <br />All of sudden I heard a voice, urging me to stop, <br />I stopped and turned behind; <br />And saw a damsel simply clad, <br />Though she was bare feet, yet from head to toe, <br />An incarnation of simplicity and elegance. <br /> <br />She stopped beside me and had a pause, <br />And in silence stared at me, <br />Then she brought out a white pigeon, <br />That she had kept covered under her shawl, <br />And handing it to me went back, <br />With out a word spoken. <br /> <br />Many years later I happened to meet the same elegance, <br />And she became my life partner; <br />In her company I journeyed the remaining part, <br />Of the route shingled long but with the soft pigeon of love.<br /><br />Muhammad Shanazar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pigeon/
