πΉππΈπ·π€
LONGING
A longing there is, to now home, quickly reach ;
For this to You, O Ahura Mazda, I implore, I beseech
Forgotten, I have the looks of my home, its dimensions, my batting pitch;
Its colourful and fragrant gardens; oh, and also, was there a beach?
Forgotten I have those beautiful faces of angels, with whom perhaps I did play;
Or in those meadows besides the stream, with friends, where I did lazily lay
Are those gates still huge? Will they, me an entry permit, or keep me at bay?
To those, my dear ones, who receive me will; I do have so many things to say.
Today on ROZ n MAH FRAVARNDIN, to all revered Ravans, I say a prayer quick;
"Is the flower or fruit ready ? Eagerly waiting, I am; when will You, me pick?"
Half burnt , old, and worn out is the lamp; weak is its overused wick
Now, there is a longing to get home. Perhaps I am homesick.
Armin Dutia Motashaw