Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
Death Looks At Death
Death looks at death with a face
Stated from the start and sages find it.
Left alone, the room is loving an air
Of deadly silence, full of bad, eerie murmurs
After the quiet has elapsed.
Luckily, the burglar is away for the balls
Are even in favour.
There is nothing new. One made my peace
And exactly charged into the dark,
Playacting with an edge that died.
Left in the room was a burglar of death,
Walking slowly along the row of secondhand objects,
The best remedy was enough,
Loudly and clearly, lesser men grew quiet!
Why does the show go on regardless?
In any event, the theft storms and rages
Like a cloud in vengeance,
Dumber than the other emblems
Fixed in the sky of mountainous waste.
Wear the shoes of the stars, and the mountains
Collapse on the houses of destruction,
Their houses are ruined and fully home.
Death has been at my doorstep now that the rain
Has set in, for the final time.
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