On my door, ~by Ziauddin Bulbul

 

 

On my door,

On my door,
It’s not the warbler
It’s the knock of your soulful fervour.
In the outside there was no light,
my past it was, as if, existed the whole night !
Oh with what a fear which is difficult to conquer,
extinguished; this heart got serious jerks and shivers !
I’m suffering with this untreatable ailment of my selfhood;
Since your departure from the device called messenger !
Days are passing through the tide of life
And the sleepless night I’m staying with great divide,
suddenly cried out from cinder the dawn, and the bird.