Lamentable Library Poem by Naveed Akram

Lament, young man over the unique style,
Your hair is fashioned by nobody, for you
Are alone and sacred, like the twins
Of humanity, the infinite realm so entwined.
Your hairstyle is like a library of contours,
Fixed with the help of souls and doctors.
My queen is fond of your haircut,
My king adores the way you dress,
So inculcate the youth with your clothing
And look according to reading,
Look with accosted men and women.

And so lament, my young man, if so many days
Have expired in this limited reluctant library.
The hours of the night are numerous and exact.
So many manuscripts from all kinds of authors
Are etched in this buried mound of beauty.
The words contract and expand like lungs
Of the chest, inhaling is learning,
Exhaling is to be the teaching.