The pleasurable cup brims.

Oh! Just sips around its rims.

Leaping flames reek consumption.

The plundered soul seeks redemption.

The horse unbridled, on to rasp.

Tethered wretchedly by a fraying hasp.

The strong current of the river a coax.

Hidden truths! A veritable hoax?

The distant chorus at the pew.

Heard alas by the ascetic few.

The here and now reigns supreme.

Profound the share of yon extreme.

Soul ripped in commotion.

Ah! the demotion.

Soul and being cross sword in strife,

as Illusion sucks the nectar of life.

Overwhelmed and rife

Spiked sonata of the sublime fife.

What resided in the niches of my heart?

Treachery of me; to my consort.

I am only so much man.

Nothing I know of the larger plan.

Original,

Saadat
(Islamabad),