How often a thought of unfair deeds, <br />Terribly haunt my vain guilty mind, <br />Shaking inner self, core of conscience, <br />The wanton pleasures of indelible past, <br />Become tormenting, painfully torturous, <br />Make troublesome the whole existence, <br />And running substance changes into gall. <br /> <br />I set once my sheep and goats free, <br />To graze in the uneven green pasture. <br />Seeing something edible in my hands, <br />A bird after hovering over my head, <br />Rested slight afar, at distance safe, <br />Out of breath, bent the eyes to me, <br />With hopeful accosting innocent gaze. <br /> <br />It was beautiful, all shining blue, <br />But against cherished hope in mind, <br />I hurled a round stone with force full, <br />That fell too heavy on the too weak, <br />Instantly the delicate breathing life, <br />Was lying prostrate, crumbled, motionless, <br />With loose legs and flexible wings, <br />The limp neck hung with ajar beak, <br />The open eyes queried complainingly, <br />“O! Man what wrong did I do to thee? ” <br />And I justified not the deed in response.<br /><br />Muhammad Shanazar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-open-eyes/
