The Stranger

Written by: Mohammad Yamin

Gifting dreams of hope to my eyes, he vanished in a flash
Carting away the treasure of sorrows, leaving mirage a trash

Thorns of grief were, in all, the earning on whose part
Left a delightful rose in the derelict mansion of my heart

He wasn’t the Socrates, yet he drank the poison of apathy
And with wine of love, he filled my heart’s vessel so empty

The bride of night ascended the horizon unfurling her hairs
Hands of that Azar  have given my thought’s idol such glares

Love, sympathy and loyalty are qualities profound
Anguish is what they reward you with, soothing although they sound

Walked he himself, to the hangman, carrying his cross of soul
To show me how my courage faltered in playing its role

Wisdom was rendered, Yamin, by vainglory inept
The book of vision he flung into the worthy hands of zest.

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Azar, the father of Prophet Abraham was an sculpturist of fame for carving beautiful idols worshiped by infidels as deity