A Song To Javaid Trali

A Song to Javed Trali ------------------------------- The morning that dirty demon-like thing Which sounds like Net, Is teared apart is dead, Is lifted as a narrow cage's iron-door, I will fly as a freed bird And celebrate, and sigh! And sing a hundred melodious songs In lilting voice (Inflaming and lulling at once) On the yonder trees of Paanchal, Bugmad and Wustoor-e-wan. As a monk is meditating on the red mount I shall pray for your youth and power At the Sofigund shrine.