The waters of the pleasant flows <br />Murmur old forgotten tales. <br /> <br />Here was a jungle before the populace. <br />So I have heard the people say. <br /> <br />There was a city of décor, fashion. <br />Time, alas, has left no sign. <br /> <br />I am the heart from the School of Sorrow <br />Whom for centuries bliss will mourn. <br /> <br />Imagination has often sighted <br />What Reason calls the Boundless. <br /> <br />Often, sitting deep in thought <br />I set up delightful fancies. <br /> <br />Words change their meanings <br />In the crowded pangs of creation. <br /> <br />O the bleak expanse of Chance, <br />Can there be a Second to my dreams? <br /> <br />Under the black drapes of the eve <br />Who is mourned by the pouring brooks? <br /> <br />Wherefrom do the beams descend? <br />To where do steps of stars lead? <br /> <br />A gale blows from the mountains. <br />Autumn leaves swirl away. <br /> <br />Beneath the bustle of the new age <br />Old echoes are buried.<br /><br />Nasir Kazmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forgotten-tales/
