Poke Not The Ashes Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

How pride of the dreams
Shattered in a moment!
And how the bits bled the eyes!
Who placed,
The burning coals on the tray?
Who deserted,
These wrists of yours?
Who erased
The lines of hands?
Who inscribed the pang
Of separation on the forehead?
The descending fog will blow out
The lamps of lashes;
Ah! It is not a delightful fun
To poke the ashes.

By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar