Murshid is there even when he is far away
So Murshid understands my grief
The intellect is no longer on the abode
Love is a bad sense, Murshid
It is always going around in circles
Is there a tangent somewhere, Murshid?
It will be done from water
Murshid has been thirsty for a long time
Rasheed Sandeelvi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem