Untitled

For how long shall I write about the anguish of the heart? Instead, I should show her my wounded fingers, blood-dripping pen…” – Mizal Ghalib

Ah, I want to be a poet and die in pursuit of the same.

(Image of Ghalib stolen from here)

2 thoughts on “Untitled

  1. Dear Ms Kamal

    Ah, for as long as there is pain in men’s hearts, there shall always be writers and poets. Fortunately for mankind, however, the reverse is never true.

    And have you considered that a good poet never dies?

    Yours
    FPD

    Frank,

    Good God! You can’t be more British than you already are, can you? “Ms Kamal?” I haven’t heard that on me since the day I boarded the plane to come home from Manchester Airport.

    They all die Sir, only their legacy speaks to me, Ghalib is one of them.

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