The Sepulchral Voices Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Farther than the seven seas,
And seven forests thick and green,
Flew I over the mountainy crests;
Over the gorges, winding deep,
And unexplored canyons dark,
Rested I on the plain high;
Beside the house made of glass,
With tall trees in the lawn,
Where the big busy parrots,
Were spoiling the fruit unripe.

Leading to the subterranean cave,
At the entrance I did halt,
For close it was with sills long,
Of transparent glassy stones.
Waited I long for the summon,
From the Lord of the House,
But returned depressed, despised,
When sepulchral voices came to me,
“He is busy, He can not see.”