Poetry

 

The pain is rather severe, don't ask,
The pain is incurable, don't ask.

There was time when I had my days,
What I possessed, don't ask.

Just a gracious look,
Changed what was into what it is, don't ask.

Intoxicated with the ascetic drink,
The possession of the dispossessed, don't ask.

In my dust rests
The fire of Karbala, don't ask.

Granted a world, but what did ye bestow!
My God! Don't ask.

The heart breaks, it is said,
The intensity of the pain! Don't ask.

What a wreck and break,
How hot is the wind! Don't ask

All of it was his, whatever it was,
What remains mine, don't ask

Eyes of a lovely fawn!
It's a pleasant dream, don't ask.

Benevolence and cruelties,
For me all are justified, don't ask.

I did not say anything,
But what he said, don't ask.

Oh! That burning passion!
Oh! The pang! Don't ask.
 

 

 

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