Silent wailing
Khadimul Murshalin Riyadh
Made fascinated by your love
Standing on hundreds of thousands of poems, I,
Cigarette burning in hand, dripping with eyes
Tears are soaking all the collections,
Unconsciously and unconsciously, the cigarette fire was blazing all around!
I am unconscious in the center of the fire circle
Yet I could not be aware for a while !.
I'm looking at the flames in a nonchalant manner,
As if fire is my absolute adoration, eternal desire!
Poets do not take fire to light a fire,
Their tears are petrol or kerosene.
The fire is burning, the air is warming up, the skin is burning,
There is no frown on the side of the reckless mind, only some of your utterances ringing in the ears,
Complaints like 'You have changed', 'You don't love me like before', 'You are creating distance between us', 'You are pushing me away', 'You are too busy now', etc.
I don't love you like before, then
Who do I love? For whom will I change myself?
What's the use of pushing you away?
What a boatman drowning in the rough sea
Can his recourse be pushed away?
Non-stop understanding is with one's own mind.
One third of the body has already been burned!
Poets don't need fire to burn,
False accusations are enough to burn them.
No one wants to live in a burnt house,
Atmaram is preparing to leave Khacha,
The melted flesh is falling from the body,
I'm still fighting with myself,
Am I really a cheater? Cheating on you?
Or a true lover and love seeker?
Moving away or coming too close?
Can protons ever leave the nucleus?
Can break the bond of a strong nuclear ball?
By this time the bird has reached the throat,
I am screaming in agony of death,
'No, I'm not a cheater, I'm a lover,
No, my love was empty, no!
Neither am I changing, nor am I moving away,
I was only yours, I am yours.
I will be yours and I will die for you! '
The cries of the poets spread without a medium,
Far, far away, from heart to heart.
Written: 25-10-2019 AD