Huma Kirmani

Banshee Huma Kirmani

Alas! My LordWhy this summer night as a hapless taleMaiden so gracious;shall she beAs a trickled tear from thy cheekYonder the wave of the night breezemelancholy stars;like no smilesthee summer night as tends to the catastropheAs pages of the summer speakAs a translator to be prejudicedLet thy summer night be persuadedInformedthy soul not to be indulgedHath taken possession of soulLately thee hath lost thee sleepThou praying hard not counting the starsSwing thy heart across thee Summer NightAs the night like a swinging vineAye! prithee, mores of amour answer me honestly...