In a world where deceiving uncertainty grows
Who would show man the spring where pure fact flows?

When the bright days are covered by dense nights
Whose front would you take in these constant fights?

Now, listen to the story of the merchant and his green parrot,
That would instantly make the heart of every dull man ferret

Behold how, Mawlana, the man of wisdom has told the story
That would question all the facts narrated in our history

In an old town by the sea where people were kind yet,
Had an oil merchant a booth and finance finely set.

He had kept a bird that could manly talk  
An Indian parrot in a cage that would seize every passenger’s sight

The Man’s commerce and name advanced in the world
Talking parrot in the booth helping his lovely lord  

Once when the merchant had left the place lonely with the bird
To go and thank God’s mercy in his earthy word    

Rushed in the booth hastily a chasing cat
To catch and meal a running filthy rat

The beings ran from one corner of the place to another
The nervous parrot moved his wings in the cage too bothered

Flew out the cage and spilled the jars of oil
In blink of an eye wasted the merchant’s life toil

Believing the bird has broken the jars
The merchant punished him hit his head hard

Parrot’s head became bald in a week due  
Possessed by guilt the man left nothing much to do  

The bird halted speech uttered no words
In spite of his lord’s endless kind efforts  

The merchant’s toil returning parrot’s manly word
Achieved him nothing but lessened jars sold  

Passing suns led the merchant to forget creed
As if bird had no talking tongue once or that manly deed

Came a day when the bird saw a bald passing by man  
Shook his wings amazed of what he digest not can

Opened mouth uttered words follow long years,  
“You shall have broken oil jars for you don’t have hairs”.  

Keep in mind folk what you hear or your eyes see
Shall not lead you to absolute unquestionable certainty

For a smiley face does not mean a heart pain-free
Or a man without a degree, a dump stupid would-be  

The one that stands behind the prison’s iron bars we built    
May not be the man who we have asserted him the guilt

And if one chooses silence to pointless shout
He may not be mute or a speechless goat  

In a world covered by the loud voice of uncertainty
Take this advice folk, find nirvana and peace in your self’s serenity.

Why would a sailor do a thing
To cause his ship come to sink

Such shrink of fortune would spring
By a neat empty act of hard fling

Done by a dull *** carefree
Full and tied to an old tree

Halt and behold this story
Wiser than the sailor's history

Once in a land there was an ***
Happy and singing in the grass

A long robe tied to an old tree
Had made him feel assly free

Praising his owner loudly proud
Sang melodies to the village's crowd

Shouting, champing, darkly brown
Donkey king of golden crown

Keeping his voice village's round
Bothered people till they frowned

Once when farmer working around
Feeding fishes, deeply drowned

Scared donkey out of fear
Louder'd his voice wet in tear

Having no choice but to fight
Hunger and thirst day and night

Village's people passing by
Didn't get poor ***' cry

Faster'd their feet to walk away
Not knowing bout his null tray

The poor donkey had passed away
Out of thirst and lack of hay.

Listen to the story of a wise man's challenge
With his king who was afraid of any tiny change

In the realm of stupidity that its king had become old
Grew a young lad who had nothing but to be bold

People kept talking about him and his likely fate
To find his head one day the sharp blade's mate

To make a deep change the lad left his clan
A young boy dreaming of tomorrow with a smart plan

Well-learn'd boy 'bout the dislocated bones
Gained the name of a doctor among all the crowns

Life's nature awaiting the right time helped him
The way a shrub grows under the mellow sun's beam

One day when the king's daughter fell off a horse
World changed the king's happy life and lovely course

His days turned to night, nights to day
His food tasted tasteless as a pile of hay

Desperate king looked for the boy here and there
The pain of the dislocated pelvis was hard to bear

A week or so the boy was present before the king
To cure his daughter's dislocated pelvis caused by a horse fling

The boy had the right cure for the bones, but
Could be offered under one condition, no fight

The king accepted the condition whatever would be
To set his daughter from that killing pain free

The boy asked for the horse that had caused the pain
And stopped feeding it food for a month plain

No food, no water, the horse became too thin
Having no clue made the king so keen

Summoned the lad hastily again to his court
To explain the wisdom of his actions to his lord

The boy chose silence to words to explain
Asked him to sit and behold the right claim

Brought the king's daughter and set her right
On the thin horse's back and fixed her tight

Mightly tied her legs together under the horse
The moveless girl out of pain shouting froze

Kept feeding the horse plenty of water and food
Making it larger and fatter than it no more could

The bones arranged and the pelvis healed
The boy invited by the king, dearly mealed,

Asked for the favor that he had done to him
By any reward offered by a king would satisfy him

The lad asked for a land accord to skin horse
And the king gave it to him with no force

Cut the horse's skin narrow in a line
To occupy a large land with water fairly fine

Invited his young folks to be his mighty force
Raised, sheep, goats, camels, and a favorite horse

Enraged with the dull tyranny of old kings
Engaged with a bald campaign against many old beings

Erected a strong realm of love and freedom
That was governed by young flexible wisdom.

In a world of decorum where essence is fair,
Run into the nature's beauty with a face bare.

We were not apart from this harmony, but a part
Of a symphony composed and played of a joyful heart.

The eternal note of joy chanted by the nightingale you hear,
The sun beams and the moonlight been to your eyes clear,

Are to lure such a forgetful man to his sense
To remove the mask of the segregation and difference.

In this world of evolution let nature be the guide
For, devolving traits shall bring you pride

Stand and adjust your pace with this organic dance,
In the green arms of the nature and her true romance.

Night's burning through the candle on my desk,
And the sharp blade of flame spreads
The charming dance of the thick shadow on the edge,
Of time, where the warmest kisses turn cold
Tightest arms get unfold
And the hearts of lovers are sold
By those whom they would love more.

Times and times is told,
In the papers of our history books echoed,
The lives of men too bold,
Killed souls to raise strongholds.
But, now behold the wrecks remained.
No kings, no queens, no murderers, no saints.

And wonderful claims
Of a changed world to turn you the blame.
O, mirrors are the same
But not such as you
Of thousands broke to show them true
Grey strands of hair
And a face of turning blue.

But you blessed time, they shall not turn you tame
The more they try, the more comes shame
In this weary world where dream is name,
O Time, blessed Time, thou shalt be the same !