Timeless moments, a tale of sojourn in paradise retold,
By grandmasters, with hearts that never grow old.
We, the seekers of light, once unaware, now see the wisdom,
The divine wisdom—a beacon in the night's kingdom.
Grandmasters, as our parents, wise mentors, guiding us aright,
Grandmasters, as spiritual scientists, with visions that ignite our sight.
Grandmasters, as divine artists, crafting beauty that touches our heart,
Grandmasters, as divine doctors, healing us with a soothing touch.
Like chinar trees, grandmasters stand tall,
Sheltering us from the Satan's beguiling call.
Their roots run deep, grounding us in their truth,
Nurturing the strength we've in our fitrah since our birth.
But only when their wisdom is passed on,
Do we uncover treasures that were long buried.
We walk the paths they've paved with care,
Their insight guiding us, through time and space.
Let us cherish, while time still allows,
The roots that bind us to the divine—our sacred vow.
In their guidance, we discover our true essence —
The strength to illuminate life's darkest night.
MyKoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem