Twice or thrice they crisscross

Across the level crossing

And the nettles cling

Stubbornly to their sides

Spreading their displeasure

Upon the broken ridges

Of crumbling soil;


But the nettles cannot go

Where railway tracks lead-


And nowhere

All at once


Whistling into the night

With a longing

That pierces



(c) Omer Tarin.
Pub ''Pasban Review'' Pakistan (1999)