NOT A BEGGING HAND
 
I feel strange
Iím going through strange feelings  Ö
No colourful trappings for desires
No dreams,
Thoughts do not come to mind
Wishes and longings are in a sorry state.
God knows for whom, what
Life tarries and wait
I donít even know what I really want
Itís a strange quandary
For us  Ö  the people who lie in wait.
 
Supplications still bow
On raised hands
Praying lips also queer
But what happened to the time
That it has changed ?
As morning fragrance is gone
So did colour from evenings
A look in the mirror
Astonished me.
 
Strange are the ways of things
As strange are their appearances
No griefs, no sorrows
Feelings have grown strange.
For us, the awaiting people
Things have become strange!