When a mother pats her child,
when a joey is lulled in the pouch,
when an infant cries for the breast,
when young crows are fed,
when ants ferry with grains,
when the moon sinks into the blue,
when rain drops hang on the leaves,
when night lulls us to sleep,
when a comet flies into the unknown,
when a glow worm guides a maiden,
when cricket makes merry in the dark,
when an old man seeks from the sky,
when my nerves pulse in a rhythm,
I am touching my heart with my palm
to make out the mystery of its beats.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
when the poet finds the mystery He becomes a saint, Noushad