In a city's heart, where stories weave and dart,
A Sufi walks, a silent art, amidst the cart and mart.
His mornings start in quiet part, from screens apart,
In meditation's gentle chart, peace to impart.
With every step upon the street, in light and dark,
He finds in cracks, life's stark remark, a flower's spark.
A simple nod, a helping hand, in daylight, in park,
His kindness spreads, a glowing arc, lighting the mark.
Evenings come, his thoughts embark, in journal's mark,
Reflections deep, from dawn to dark, he makes his mark.
Through lens, he seeks the hidden quirk, the magic stark,
In mundane scenes, a whispered hark, a contrast stark.
Once a week, with friends, a lark, in laughter, hark,
They share, they speak, in light, in dark, ignite the spark.
At night, he gazes, city's stark, from window's ark,
In quietude, he finds his mark, a silent hark.
Through his eyes, the city, stark, a wonder park,
He walks straight, a calm embark, in daylight, dark.
A reminder, bold, a luminous mark, in day, in dark,
To seek the magic, in joy, in lark, where life embarks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem