Allah, return to me
That ambrosial afternoon of Arafat…
In the heart of the desert
A roaring conflagration
Of stones of passion
And bodies of clay…
Funeral pyres
A million delusions
Fly upwards in the wind
Like burning tufts of dry grass…
The scented melody of zephyr
A stream of serene silence…
The Sun goes down
And an enchanting afternoon
Gradually disappears like melting ice
From the plains of Arafat…
Like a dying echo
Silence finally descends
On the Valley of Mercy…
It is Sunset in Arafat…
© Syed Ahmed Shah, Bokultol, Guwahati
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem