The Weeping Horse Poem by Assayouti Jalaludeen Shuaib

What else would be a mystery
Than this picture in my memory
Giving my sight an imagery
Of the fairy tales of the ancestry
In my childhood under the moonlight

In those days they said
Tortoise sang to the crowd
And for that was crowned
Then betrothed with puppy
As his queen and begot
Princes and Princesses

Now that my wrongs are wrong
And my rights are right,
With beards and mustache
Around my cheek and chin,
Why would the horse cry?
Is it for his lover, journeyed
And lost in the ridges
Or of a race he lose
To a crawling mouse?

Would he cry for the rocky paths
He failed to smash with his hoof
Or the roses trampled on
By his majestic moves?

If it be for love or torrent
Of torment by tyranny,
This picture in my memory
Is yet to me a mystery.