Every day cloud burst over my head
Every day in multiplication, I die,
every day I dance In a dark room
of sorrow and happiness, with broom
Into the light, I shy that quickly hie//
Why to weep and why to cry,
Under the veiled canopy of false hood
Still, at some precious moment
I have a movement with my thought
Into the deep dense wood//
With a naked thought of a child
A pawn like pen,
A chess board like a paper
Desirous Victory winning bard
Under thy Cord, O my Lord////
Aftab Alam
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poet-19/
