We call each other by
      names,
In fact all just rolls on
     and on with no 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 yo 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 Kassim.
  (d. November 25, 1991)