death of a poet- dixit bhatta

He cried in the silence of midnight
When the moon was young
The night was cold
And the dawn was at distance, long

Clouds were hovering in the sky
The moon hid behind with pity
Stars started to cry
The trees around felt sorry

A wind from outside swirled
Door made a creaking sound
The torn window veil billowed
Pile of dust above was disturbed

The lamp near was shattered
Leaving the debris of his dream
The pen beside him was empty
And a paper with incomplete poem

The lines were of hope
And of aspirant
for bringing the peace
In the country of ignorant

There was talk in the town
Next day, inside his body lied
In hunger and anguish, it was the night
The poet had died.