Those you know well, are no good, you say
Those you don't, are like gods, you say
Life is a gift, some people say
It's a curse for their sins, others say
It makes to live them longer and still they
call the medicines as cures. Why? I say
The moon is the blood life of leaves, says 'Faakir'
Like the henna on the lovers' hands, as they say
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem