The Dew Drops
The guests of night secretly come,
by Muhammad Shanazar
Riding upon the wings of subtle air,
From the unknown remote world,
To spend a short span of time,
Rest on the tenderly coloured petals,
Soft leafy beds and points of thorns.
Untouchable glassy gems of purity,
Are made to be seen and praised,
Only by the pure eyes and tongues,
The sun beams pass through them,
Manifesting their divine existence,
Composed with the ethereal colours.
I often ponder sitting by them alone,
A child is as pure as the dewdrops,
When comes creeping and crying,
Into the world of woes and worries;
But the touch of our filthy fingers,
Makes them fall to mix into lying dust,
Of heinous ego, jealousy and vain pride.