Wednesday, June 21, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

313
When I feel a pile of woes on my poor head,
I fall down on the floor with a jerk like stone,
Wit laughs at my being looking at the shred,
My poor eyes weeping with the heavy groan,
What a life? Nothing but rests on the chance,
The slave of beauty and rich abhor the mean,
Chance the rich minion watches the poor dance,
All the wretched in the mire; O God, I have seen
All Beauties and bells; free of all earthly flaws,
The poor are the slave of fate since their crawl,
Why wails and woes follow the poor what cause?
None knows but God knows life is a thinking gall,

O God! Do justice among the rich and the poor,
Injustice rules the globe, brawl on it and no cure