Barely did I jump onto my horse
when behind me chased his fatwa;
with my heart of a child I hurried along,
as arrows of sorrow he launched.
When I was lost
he cornered me where I most loathed to be -
in a herd of meek grazing sheep -
no voices, no thoughts.
When I fell in love
he stepped in again,
compelling me to wander aimlessly
between love and lust.
With all my weapons I resisted him:
dreams, youth, conscience,
but he fought back with his ingenious arms –
money, fame, pleasure.
I shielded my chest with poetry
but he kicked out my feet with scorn.
At last, I revealed my trump card – a smile
and he responded with illness.
The moment the candle of my life
is snuffed out
my savage war with Death concludes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem