You are in a dire despair
And the head is blowing
You think hard and a bit worry
Where you did wrong
You quickly come back
And enter into your room
Switch on the fan
And looking at the ceiling
It is moving
Like your head
badly imitating you
like a monkey
You little bit annoyed
And stand up
Switch off it
It does not stop immediately
It keep moving for a while
Like your own follies
Though you tried a lot
To stop to do no more fault
But it will take time to stop
Like that of ceiling fan
They enters through the pores
You created out of habit
Now you understand
It is something like
after shock of your deeds
look at the fan again
and this time more philosophically
than the previous one
so nicely it sprinkles wind
and keep surrounding cool
but burns inside
and becomes hot
but it never makes
any one to understand
and it never becomes a cause to worry
like your good deeds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
O Abdul Wahab, that is why I love you, my dear poet, congratulation for ceiling fan,10