The Refugees Poem by Javed Iqbal

In the cool, narrow streets of my city
There live great people
But the time creates paucity
I can't visit all the places


I don't interfere in others' affairs
The same mercy I expect from others
Nature produces things in pairs
Man woman, flower thorn, table chair


I inhale the fragrance of past
When I'm in the old houses
The fragrance that can't vanish
No matter the other things perish


The old people in these houses
Live in the past more than present
They lament, laugh and sometime cry
They can't escape nostalgia even if they try


I also live in the past with them
And enjoy warmth of their love
Sometime I dare to come to the present
But I can't bear the colossal wrath of world.