Don't close the window.
The sky might get it.
The tears of your eyes.
Like a cry of a wet cloud.
Don't close the window.
The birds might get it.
What have you lost?
The spring of your eyes.
Don't close the window.
At night the moths might come in.
To join your dancing in the flame.
Open the window.
Let your breath out.
Didn't you grow it enough in your lungs?
Open the window.
Let your voice out.
The world might become your sympathy.
Abdulla Hikmat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem