Walking through the bazaar,
A bystander asked why
I hadn’t written a verse
In days many.

Every other day,
A new dish I’d prepare,
And soulful garments
For the dispirited to wear.

I burn my heart
In the oven of pain,
I soak my eyes
In the tears-stream.

A gift from above,
A favor divine,
Linking us with Him
In an accord so fine.

But for past few days,
I kept myself busy
So that the heart
Would not feel dizzy.

I masked my pain
With the worldly glitter,
I chained my soul
With the comfy fetter.

For a day I immersed
In the worldly matters:
Devoid of love divine,
My heart cried in pain

For those used to
My painful tale,
May Allah bless my pen
To write without fail!

What harm for one solitary heart
To throb and bleed:
A thousand hearts if
Towards Him proceed.

There is a victory
In pain too.
Ah! Stones plenty:
Pearls so few!




September 19, 2003. Edit March 2023