Craftsmen who chop
words from trees of
hope to build ladders
...
Once in a while,
During these sultry nights,
When all voices seem
To have fallen asleep,
...
So said the Breezes addressing those departing,
"To search for the long departed is certainly a futile effort,
for who has ever found the traces of the long departed!
you, who wander about the darkness
...
My creator is He
who gave flowers fragrance,
trees shade, oceans water,
winds motive power,
...
Think it over, my love,
For the journey of decisions
Is never soothed by
The soft shadows of words.
...
The sand keeps on sliding,
For it is meant to be, it keeps on sliding
Deserts retreat
with the sound of cities,
...
This story of earth,
As old as the universe,
As old as birth
Of day and night
...
Half a century on
my home and habitat
reduced to dust by
blind oppression.
...
My moon-faced nephew,
eyes which had dreamt
only about you are shut.
...
Let's account for life's deficit blight.
Count our griefs, know our pains right.
What plaints blister at the bottom.
Today is the day to unleash them.
...