Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
All of the artists become sublime,
Their minds actively search for the services
To love the appearance and to love the place.
Many can see the months in their diseases,
Many artists feel love for God,
And their tools are hopes and hoops,
Dreams of the waking hour,
Living with them seems eternity.
Love those with pens and ink
Like you love the rigours of this life.
I have peace in this way, to be an
Onlooker for the facts of knowledge
Inside another day and night.
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