Let tears stream purely to the ground,
It is You that obliges, and constricts the veins.
Your distresses are numberless, but the thought
Remains deeply in the heart of aching sobriety.
Take yourself up to the layers of truth,
Meet the angels and repose on couches
Of piercing light, of just flight, and great plight.
The fulfilment of the polite heart is stage two,
The age is complete, to be the cage of enragement.
Let tears stream to the ground and pages unfurl
To the breath of enlightenment, this is the sage.
I have engaged in a teenager who reads from the book
Of wisdom, in an elder boy who studies the scripture,
And a sheikh who opposes the words of disgust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem