The Delicate Moment Poem by Abdul Sattar

That line there, that mass there
Which is out of question?
The wonderful night, starlit
When candles wavering in her eyes
Being tired, the mind still rising
And falling with the sea
When heart turning over the sketches
Under the lamp it ignites
The flames of love and want
The taste and smell that places
Have after long absence
Possessing her subdued spirits
The waves sound as the wind blow
It sings like the beloved voice
The moon surprised, enormous pale
Still and silent as she sleeps
The exactness, the best to look
That line there, that mass there
That picture that speaks the truth
Of everlasting moment’s fragrance
Let the moon be fifty feet away
Let it not even speak a word
Let it not even look at you
It permeates, prevail, and impose
The most supreme bliss, the beauty
Of which human nature is capable


1 February 2005