Harsh winds howl again,
Not from the moumtain tops,
Or from the sandy shore,
But where there's abundant pain.
My life is not what it seems,
Happiness has become just a dream,
Sometimes it flashed like whiteness,
After a series of lightning scenes.
I long for love but it eludes me,
My own "rib-flesh" makes fun of me,
My Creator who wrote my destiny,
Keeps me awake with night and He.
I may live, or so it seems,
For my loving children's dreams,
For their future happiness,
Without a shoulder on which to lean.
One day, perhaps, my progeny,
Will take time to understand me,
What I was and what I looked,
Might unravel the mystery.
Till then let the blue dawn come,
Let the Muezzin's voice disturb eardrums,
Let days and nights solve their plan,
Without rest how far tired feet ran...