I read; now a thousand sagas and a hundred poems,
Where is the verse, which penetrates hearts in silence?
To live on is much turmoil these days,
And she preferred to kill me in silence.
We dreamt together a chance in poetic symposium.
I alone was put to case as half story in silence.
Tell her, not to pray for my reckoning anymore,
Her infidelity is now teaching me atheism in silence.
Candles and grapes, and songs was I welcomed with,
Rightly an oppressed (lover) is pardoned in silence.
Of no life, like a fay, is this grave of mine left;
No more angels, she has bribed them too in silence.
Poems, written in dark, were exquisite for me,
Then her name appeared, and I tore them all in silence.
My despience! I craved to send you the carpets from paradise.
And she watered the thorns of graveyard, in silence.
Eternal lovers still visit here to laud me on Eid!
She sees, envies; she is again to me a lover in silence.
Stripped and questioned, the day will expose her too,
‘Why?’ Infidel! She is bound to answer, not in silence.
Rule: a sun feeds and eats the moon by choice,
Rule: lover is, at last, murdered by beloved in silence.
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