The afternoon sun began waning over the dove-white shrine,
Alone stood there the shrine,almost in the solemnity,
Chirping sounds of birds coming from distant willows,
Where not a single shadow guarded the wintry ray of sunshine,
The shrine remarked the sign of the deep Love,
And wounded several times by the bullets and guns,
Everytime blood spilled masive from the body of Love,
Speech of the shrine got utterly silent, it observed all the bruises and sores!!
Each lobe of it exclusively would die martyr death,
There a baby would born free with all his persistence,
He would rebuild, he would rebel,
against your violence,He’s a born lover..
He would sing for the Paigambar,he would revolt against you!
Dreadful would be his love,there he’d dazzle your eyes,
Above the shrine, he made his firm royal seat,
You earned the joy, but didn’t ever see enjoy your defeat!!