(A dream I dreamt when I was only four years old) <br /> <br />Hardly was I old years four, <br />Went through an experience unforgettable. <br />It was the month of monsoon winds, <br />In the clear sunny morn I went out of the village, <br />And beheld the sun rising in the west, <br />Beyond the yonder peaks of the hills, <br />In the same place where it descends. <br /> <br />Fear gripped my mind and I ran to the mosque, <br />Lest the Door of Penitence should be closed. <br />I ran and ran through the streets shouting, <br />“O! People come! Come to the mosques! <br />The Doom is encroaching, beg apology of the sins, <br />Lest the Door of Deliverance be shut.” <br /> <br />No sooner did I find myself in front of the door <br />Than I found the mosque running, <br />With moderate speed, as the train leaves the station. <br />I ran and ran with the petty steps <br />Beside the walls, with increasing rapidity, <br />But ever the door remained out of the reach, <br />Then the mosques went afar; I began to gasp behind, <br />On the hot ground with bare feet.<br /><br />Muhammad Shanazar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-of-innocence/
