Lines would not cross
Monastic living has all submissions
Would the spirit of human a virtue
Or evil subdued
With painful ritualism of pardons
For being in the world
Consciousness has burdens
Let with slowness of silences
The dialogue with the divinity
Is either prayer or anguish of pain
The resolved tangle
Spirited voluptuousness
Let the hell burn the hysteria
Craft they say
Spirit I call
The echoes were dead
There were so many children
Murmuring chants
On the dry branches of trees
Snakes were coiled some hanging
This vigil has not seen
Winged fairies yet
Islamabad
7/6/2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem