Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
The waste of work is called ruin,
Having a blessed action is solid;
No mound of soil is upturned
Without the guidance of wastage,
For wastage is the key to action
And action especially happens.
The moonlight escapes the Earth,
Once lit, and never enters the heart
We love and mention, always we dine
As the suns and stars revolve with each other.
The work of this expanse accepted
Is a work so wasted, for we dine and expel
The ruin called wastage of work.
Comments about this poem (Called Ruin by Naveed Akram )
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