on writing

seriously, I remember when I was six
When writing came mysteriously and made me feel sixty
It understood me, and made my war-torn city heaven
I understood it as the new oppressed people’s weapon

coffee-bearer

O coffee-bearer brighten my cup with the coffee
Delicious beverage, for God’s friends
O soothsayer, say good fortune is now mine
Little you know why with coffee, I always myself align.
O breeze if by chance you pass through friendly gardens
From me to my Beloved, please give a sign;
Ask why you choose to forget my name?
O Jimale, let a tear drop or two leave your eyes
Hafiz of Shiraz, one of the finest poets from Persia

Everyone I came across

Everyone I came across
appears like you
looks like I’m going to go mad
for I’m in love with you

More

Aside

Obsessed!

You’ve got your peace,
but I’m in daze
You make me pine,
Never in midstream leave me,
How can I tell you how I suffer  More