The city breathed an evening for the beloved’s depart,
The dust, by the Maghreb, to the soul mourned
The Path ended, hands raised in prayers,
Years and years of love, -a relationship, like dew’s spread.
My father’s best friend, friend of the friends and of Friend.
The great master – Rumi, lead the funeral, of the gold-smith,
Urs, - a celebration indeed, when friend meets the Friend.
Little memories of some small talk,
Serene like moon, the face was bright like star.
-On the sad demise of Professor Ahmad Gul, graduate from Islamia College Peshawar, in 1950s; a preacher and wanderer in Allah’s Path.
Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
February 14,2014.
Islamia College sunset view @ Pukhtoogle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem