Empty Hands
Where are you and where am I?
How an enormous ocean,
Of separation intruded in between.
If we imagine we shall go astray,
In the island if thoughts,
And we shall never have reunion.
At these nights of melancholy,
In the firmament of faithfulness,
When light did not flicker,
On the farms of wishes,
When clouds did not rain,
On the farm-edges,
When crow did not caw,
In the bowls of desires,
When dew of faithfulness,
And soothing sounds,
Did not descend;
Then descended a verse,
On the glow-worm of conscience,
'O! Lovers do not raise hands for prayers
For they are becoming infertile.'
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Added by Poetry Lover
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