In the evening, before the sunset,
There’s a strange music stirring inside,
It rises slowly like smoke up a chimney and engulfs the vastness of my mind,
I see the wind stroll in quietude,
The sky lazes in a hazy armchair of grey,
Little b...irds not ready to go home, yet, fly and play,
The song tumbles from my lips like water gushing from a hot spring,
I don’t know why I sing or for whom,
From where does the passion for singing come?
But in the fading golden light,
I feel the Gods have descended to hear my song,
The song of many hearts that gaze lovingly at the sky,
The song, the smile that lightly plays on the lips,
The world is lost; the world beyond nears...
There’s a strange music stirring inside,
It rises slowly like smoke up a chimney and engulfs the vastness of my mind,
I see the wind stroll in quietude,
The sky lazes in a hazy armchair of grey,
Little b...irds not ready to go home, yet, fly and play,
The song tumbles from my lips like water gushing from a hot spring,
I don’t know why I sing or for whom,
From where does the passion for singing come?
But in the fading golden light,
I feel the Gods have descended to hear my song,
The song of many hearts that gaze lovingly at the sky,
The song, the smile that lightly plays on the lips,
The world is lost; the world beyond nears...
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| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
1 comment:
Lovely poem.
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