The clock will cease to click------

*************************

 I can't sing anymore, after the death

and can’t  even glance at, anything during life time.

Humanism, is pitiably begging in the city's streets

and demonical frenzied laughter,  is roaring all around.

All the scenes, on time's screen, are changing swiftly

and the world is crossing the threshold barrier.

They are constructing pyramids in desert too

and cool pendals, are being arranged  in the sky space all over.

On the floor, where spring flutes start sprouting

crude civilization is spreading the cloth of darkness wide and far.

The trait of soul sacrifice, has not yet given birth, and taken shape of and the notes that vitalize and astonishes

 have become mirages in the  human race.

The sweetest   thoughts in wet, that could not be dried up in the mind of human that held time tight in its fist, are taking bath in the lakes that are born in purified souls stricken with desires.

and are spreading divine cloth, to all the far end corners

and are emitting fragrant scents of humanism, in doubled fiesta.

and the radiant golden  rays of early dawn  are diffused to the entire world.

The person who can’t touch the fire at all, will never become the prophet of scriptures and also will not at all can catch hold of the affection springing vessel of honey, and can’t even fling the flute of moonshine

Where there is no reservoir, how the longing thirst can be quenched ?

Where the address of the human, who strives hard to enhance springing consciousness  gets erased and where the roaring in the vocal chords is dropped down like bird with  snapped wings

in the forest of life , where the heart is turned as an alarmed cloud

and also where the longevity of life shortened as momentary breath

and in the storming dusty whirl wind , the affectionate clouds didn’t

shower rains of kindness ,and where the cordial hand shake is notably missing and where the humanism is not conspicuously absent, and  where all the precious and great values are evaporated and the existence of human becomes the comfortable  pillow for the death, please  be careful my friend! the clock will just cease to click.