Withered Roses What words of mine can describe you, desire of the nightingale's heart? The morning breeze was your nativity, the afternoon garden, a tray of perfumes. My tears welled up like dew, till in my abandoned heart your rune grew, this dream-emblem of love: this spray of withered roses. -Allama Iqbāl #roses, #witheredrose #nighttales, #morningbreeze
