The night is frigid, and the sky is moonless,
When all can I do is to pick up my pen..
In the darkness, they unite in togetherness,
Coz every muhalla is in deep sleep, and I somewhere find solace.
Roads are empty,now no gathering will ever sound there,
Ask me, what solemnity is, I’ll narrate you right now, here..
I erased my scars to meet the muse,
Such meetings usually sung in solitude, in grave or beneath the moon..
Unforgiving the moon is, so consciously provokes me to write,
the love birds die many times before they meet in dome..
I prefer to be kaafer than to be religious,
Prayer houses seems to me as qayed,
Where my Goddess never allow me to enter there.
I’m not some shaukin to make love with shadows,
Which have no power to come in front and will hunt me down with its arrows..
Even if I die, will die for my burning love..
Who is vigorous enough to keep faith in me and will decorate my tomb with his LOVE!!