The dreams are not merely dreams,
Though they are often considered the fantasies,
And futile vain imaginings of the mind;
Yet they portend the stuff for the future.
I dreamt once, I was on the route shingled long,
All alone with grimness I walked,
No one accompanied to share my pang,
It was almost dark, the time of sunset;
All of sudden I heard a voice, urging me to stop,
I stopped and turned behind;
And saw a damsel simply clad,
Though she was bare feet, yet from head to toe,
An incarnation of simplicity and elegance.
She stopped beside me and had a pause,
And in silence stared at me,
Then she brought out a white pigeon,
That she had kept covered under her shawl,
And handing it to me went back,
With out a word spoken.
Many years later I happened to meet the same elegance,
And she became my life partner;
In her company I journeyed the remaining part,
Of the route shingled long but with the soft pigeon of love.
Muhammad Shanazar
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pigeon/
