In Solitude Often I Ponder
I was shaped a perfect being,
by Muhammad Shanazar
Perfect in form and posture,
A turmoil rose among the angels,
Then jealousy and defiance,
Came into action to tarnish my charm.
Bearing a crown on my head
I was placed on the elevated podium,
To instill eyes of the lookers with solace.
But the evil hearts were resolute,
To confound the glorious design.
Ah! Now my all inside is dead,
Numbness has wrapped my entire being,
Tears emerge not in my eyes,
I repent not on my own fatal faults
Distress of others distress me not,
My hands are red with the substance:
Blood of the fellow beings,
And the loss of faith is no matter to me.
Now the vessel of my heart is filled
With hatred, pride and poison of jealousy;
Instead of with the contents of love and piety,
While sitting in solitude often I ponder;
“Do I have any reason still to regard myself,
The crown of the creation? ”