Where evening twilight lets the flames ignite, Move on—it's Champs-Élysées by night....
By Sara Teasdale
In the wild soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
Glinting on black satin.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
Sheltered us,
While your kisses and the flowers,
Falling, falling,
Tangled in my hair....
The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.
And now, far off
In the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom
For June comes back.
To-night what girl
Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair
This year's blossoms, clinging to its coils?
By Abid Agha
Where evening twilight lets the flames ignite,
Move on—it's Champs-Élysées by night.
History unfolds, varied cultures unite,
A place that whispers tales in twilight.
Evening’s grey fades into the dark,
Groups and couples set forth to embark.
Be it a glass of champagne or a café noir,
An endless rendezvous, none to withdraw.
"Hey, refill my glass again, s’ilvousplaît,
I cannot afford the slightest delay."
Aromatic tobacco scents appeal,
I inhale, surrendering to the craving I feel.
As night moves on, Champs-Élysées slows,
Crowds drift away, bidding adieu to pubs and cafés.
Tomorrow, let the evening embark—
A new night of joy, a fresh spark.
More faces, new voices, of every hue,
Yet, Champs-Élysées, my heart stays with you.
By Maheen Batool
Regret runs down their
swollen cheeks
Longing desperately for what
they couldn't shield
Already drowned in red now bathes in the salty rivers
Stricken with guilt which isn’t his
He discovers there is no peace once you've been born
As a thousand casualties
surround the damp grave with faces all worn
By Ali Asghar Ghani
Behind
A beautiful piece of writing,
We will find
A soul,
Teeming with darkness, pain and
Melancholy
By Eesha Bakht
Even though I gave a shout-out,
I was still left out.
You left me feeling hopeless,
Said I was truly a mess.
The times we shared in quiet chat
Are gone now—like the weather once pleasant, now flat.
