Boetry

O sweet spontaneous
Khuspoo how often have
the doting fingers of
prurient Mullahs pinched
and poked thee

has the naughty thumb
of Fauji Aphsars prodded
thy beauty.

How often have Talips taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and buffeting thee

True to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic lover

thou answerest them only with
a lovely bray.

AoA