We call each other by names,
In fact all just rolls on and on without
        aims---
Just the routine heat of our daily 'talk;'
If it then be that we in harmony no more
       'walk,'

Nor with joy together quietly rejoice,
Then, though it troubles me inside, yet
        I've no choice

But to leave you, dearest, unattended
By the passion I've borne for you,
       alone uncontented:

Let me to injustice be done,
Than do it myself--from which in heart I
        shun.
                                               -by
                                   Hakim H. Kassim.
                                  (d. November 25, 1991)