Ali
Lord,
The able master,
They say!
Who made me wander,
Always
in his magnificent world.
Bless him,
Then,
The able magnificent master!!
So shall you
i bet
and many a kindest soul.
The brown kindely man,
Who nourished me,
when i was young,
When he was old.
He was young,
I was old.
A prize of wisdom,
He was.
The finest choice,
The awesome voice.
Bleary and
barely
i remember
my early childhood.
May be i slept on his lap,
Craving for milk.
And may be,
He was there!
May be,
The ageless resonance
of his astonishing songstress.
Or may be,
His torturing singer,
i inherited.
i remember he
always lulled me to sleep.
May be,
He dropped some his tears,
or a shy sweat
from his forehead.
i bet some landed
on my childish face!
Three days old!
Two years old or five,
i still remember:
Angels
and wise fairies
and lush green
beautiful gardens
and those serene
oriental flutes
and his voice!!!
My dearest father,
When he lulled me
to sleep.
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