Those Gardens of Roses

Every time I walk through that muddy road,

They always seem to carry their beautiful, heavy load

Black, Purple, Yellow, White, Pink, and of course, Red.

They gleam with the dew in the “morning spread” (=rising sun)

Oh! Those gardens of roses.

Can a thing so beautiful,

Remain without being troubled?

Every year people came, and their offers only doubled

It was just the gardener’s grit that he never succumbed

Grit, honor, character don’t give bread and butter, honey!

Leave all that …. To live, you just need money…..

Now, on those lands

Stands a marvel of modern architecture

And I bet it has a rosy texture…..

It’s so fine; it’s so tall, awesome to the hilt….

But still they lie, crushed, below its built…

They bloomed, they gleamed

Now unseen, now unheard…

Those gardens of roses, will they be remembered?

Still I pass through the “same subway route”

But lost are those lovely gardens of roses………

                                                                                    Faisal.