Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Lonely is the friend of our music,
Joy of the toys of beauty have arisen,
Like the memory of a peaceful time
So long ago.
Lonely men and women of the forest
Seem like pitiful people, sylvan people,
Who enter the travel of spirits,
Like the spring and summer.
Ghosts now howl over this place of destruction,
My sister knows them from now,
My brothers are for the peace of existence,
As freedom walks along the shoreline
With water of the sea in dreams.
Poverty is the spring of the summer,
And riches come in this season of winter
Where loneliness nevertheless vacates.
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