My secret sufferings, secret joys,
My secret sighs, secret love,
My secret tears behind the lips,
My secret wars in the heart empire,
My secret magical world of dreams,
My secret trips in inward streets of eyes,
My secret music sung in tangled branches,
My secret prayers in the realm of pure heart,
All silent figures transfigure in divine madness.
Then inner voice dictates to paint all on my wall.
Words shining in aureole, lighted with blood.
My words are music to those
Who have tasted heavenly ambrosia.
After morning prayer, Isecretly sing,
In my lawn, song of Allahhoo with cuckoo,
Open Matloob Poetry to receive bouquet of love,
Bouquet of prayers, bouquet of praising words.
My friends, companions of my beautiful life,
Are flowers in the drama of thorn bush of time.
They motivate me to sing again for them
And grow flowers of love in the blazing desert.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem