Every word I wrote in my notebook
Was telling me about a time that will come
About a lingering darkness
An approaching dawn
About rain becoming green wheat
Paradise becoming devils' residence
About the suffering of the noble ones
Unwilling to bow
Unwilling to chew hypocrisy like whores
Sinfully chewing lust.
Yes,
Every word I wrote in my notebook
Was not the inspiration of a poet jinni
I am the poet of prophets
And for the poets, I am a truthful prophet
I fear you
O my words, inspired by God,
I fear you
The shivering of inspiration overwhelms me
When I write the word
And the word is an arrow
That will drop me everyday many times
Mercy on my heart
In which the birds die and resurrect every morning
In fear of the lines you write
O my pen
A messenger of God,
My pain!
