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Poem

Where Should I begin from? My words are like scattered stars,
The fingers rummage for words. Pen is rent asunder. It runs away from me, in reality

I return back to nostalgia; the dead dreams are still in life their,
A castle of fantasia they have built, from broken wishes: a fool’s gold, in reality

The world turns slowly: Great illusion for eternity. Poor departed souls,
Deaf forever! No one can hear them, acceptance is essence. Longing is vain, in reality

Pain is both agony and fertility. Ah! these lessons of Philosophy
They turn my heart brave. It’s on war with divinity. Shameful truth: it stifles, in reality

My heart is an idol worshipper; bring his idols from their height
Enough! I am being cursed by the heavens. Save me. Convert this infidel, in reality

Sins are rolling down from my eyes, bring onto me, The Purity
Now I repent, after no word. Baptize me. Lest end this drama of life, in reality

The moon is imprisoned in daylight, the sun brings anarchy
Moon guides the passengers of night, with her light, not her light, in reality

The effulgence of my rheum, a mirage, for my soul
What guides my mind? Is it filth? Or pursuit for my desires, in reality

The birds on the trees with the image of dawn in their eyes
Arrival of red on the sky, Begins their life. Or counts their time, in reality

Everyone thing is dead, only my eyes alive, they pay homage to my guilt
I have been thirty for years, quench my thirst, or let me be Husain, in reality

Those dear things I lost are forever gone. They envisage my dreams
As you write this envoi Muzzaffar, try to realize what is gone, shapes life, in reality

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