Tuesday, June 20, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

300
Fresh love is weak, but strong love is old,
Its beauty increases with the passage of time,
Neither it is bought on earth and nor it is sold
Nor it is mingled with the new worldly chime,
Yea! Today’s love deceit, the past love pure,
Today’s love is the hungry of pelf and fame,
And both do not make the love disease cure,
And in its return gets the lover always shame,
Always love plant grows in the humble soul,
Its seed, holiness free from all kinds of greed,
It makes happy the lover and not full of dole,
It grows more and more if pure is our seed,

Ah! O Rose! Love tells me, what are you?
Your eyes reveal your love is full of woe.