This Exhausted Day Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

This exhausted day
Passed away for nothing,
Evening on the sleeves of moments,
Has been mending patches
Of light of the night.
Gloomy wind sobbingly,
Has slept long ago at doorsteps
Of my house,
The moonlight caressing
The windows has went back
To her abode since long.

I seek in dusk footprints
Of journey of the past, in the sky,
I seek the lost caravans of the stars.

Now sometime after,
Sleep will titillate me gently,
And stealthily with her soft hands
Will open any page,
Of the close diary lying on the table,
On which I might have written
In my harrowed thoughts
An account of my nights,
And forsaken old affairs.

Then in the later moments
After a long time, the wind will wake
Me mildly and another day will come
On doorsteps of my house.

Whatever was published in the paper
The same might have been reprinted,
The blood that was shed yesterday
Might have congealed on consciences.

Who knows what punishment will bring
The laws of this fresh day,
Who know how many dead bodies
Will carry the shoulders of tomorrow,
Today will too pass away like yesterday,
Exhausted and wounds-ridden
Will vanish in the arms of darkness
Of the night and will sit there wrapping
Himself in the blanket of silences.