It feels not the gaze of the living,
Their breath doesn't fan its face,
In death there’s no partnership,
In death, the mind is silent.
What do I really know of death?
People crying, loudly, softly, some even in vain,
How do I mourn the drifting, the going away,
Have I not every so often wished it for myself…
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| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
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