An ancillary term is given to the wounded,
Dying and bloodied with bullets of balm,
So death disagrees and anoints its master,
Its master is the place of the accident.
And then the accident forewarns others
To remain calm and resolute, infinite as heaven,
To be misled by the demons and djinn,
Towards the splendour of the stars is the return.
One sees mischief in the entrance of the soul,
A gate departs as the gate envelops,
And the disagreements are numberless,
And they are wordless with causes of health.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem