This is a dramatically poem on the Gujrat riot...>
Once while sleeping I saw a dream,
Love is pretty, sweet and kind,
Like a beautiful hillside morn,
Blowing breeze and fragrance bind,
Then it is in one's heart born.
On the summit the sun was shining,
And whosoever dared to get outside,
The sun burnt one and fainted by scorching,
And his impact stretched to the world wide,
Oh, how sever the heart's pain,
In the love, did what I gain,
Writhing my heart and eyes rain,
I forget her, but in my dreams remain.
Ego, a mask we wear,
To hide our doubts and fear,
A shield we put up high,
To protect ourselves from prying eyes.
Tears are hidden behind smile,
Among the thorns a laughing rose,
Those who are muslims just for name,
They really Islam defame,
No future they have nor any aim,
Like a candle without flame.
From the west the fast winds blow,
By force and with lovely sound,
By and by my emotions grow,
And freshness is there me around.
The wind blows from the west,
And takes the clouds strongly away,
And causes in the sky unrest,
Kites are soaring where astray,