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The Soaked Wings


Uzma Sadaf

The season is suspicious
Very suspicious!
The treachery of night
Has spread all around
A black thick sheet
A few drops of rain
And the feet of travelers
Thrust in mires
There is no star shining
No moon!
The tower is gloomy
Darkness is prevailing over it
The sounds of bells
Are dying in the noise of wind
The wings of the birds have soaked
And they are unable to fly.

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