In the name of Allah,

The Beneficent, The Merciful

mapping the avenue to hours of solitude,

watching the clouds padded with rain,

racing along me.

this is the friday sun interrupting the passage,

of waves of bliss, as they enclose my heart,

ribboning its cache with strands of aspiration.

let it be o' weeping sun ... let your radiance circuit my airing love.

friday morn - crowning my soul,

my eyes and the spell of beloved's charm,

gracing me to journey to a heaven of delight.

the breaking of early dawn,

with the whispers of nature - pleading,

humbly before their lord,

" Where is the son of the chosen Prophet? "

friday morn - and the fresh blood streaming from kerbala ...

nudba and the lamentation of inhabitants of earth,

tears mixing with clay - moulding our stature,

lowering our backs.

friday - the day of individual compensation,

day of paying allegiance to our imam,

as the curtain occults his beauty from us.

nudba - where is hassan, where is hussain?

nubda - where is the son of favorite leaders?

nudba, and a bleeding heart