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Bhaiya
At dusk the nightingale sings
Beneath a flowering yew, Bhaiya.
Parvati's aura is adorned
With beads of starlit dew, Bhaiya.
Our rooms echo the songs
We sang in Urdu, Bhaiya.
The sky reflects Himalayas
When the moon turns ice blue, Bhaiya.
The Ganges now shimmers
With the sun's rarest hue, Bhaiya
© Steffen Horstmann
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| Steffen Horstmann |
Steffen Horstmann's poems and book reviews have appeared in publications throughout the world, including Baltimore Review, Free State Review, Istanbul Literary Review, Louisiana Literature, San Antonio Review, Texas Poetry Journal, and Tiferet. He has published two books of ghazals, Jalsaghar (2016) and Ujjain (2017), and has recently completed a new book of poems, Ellora.
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