The Players Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Sweet, charming, lovely players,
Not cheaters like humans,
They don't need an empire,
They play fare games,
The bookies can't purchase them,
They don't play fixed matches,
Their games are for the sake of games,
They don't take the game as a war,
They play for pleasure and fun,
And for the peace of mind,
They don't have deadly feelings of nationalism,
They are internationalists,
Whether they are monkeys or cats and dogs,
Or the dolphins in the seas and ponds,
Or the acrobats flying high in skies
With an sportsman spirit,
They play their games.
They remind us the forgotten theme,
Of games and sports,
I can tell you why and how?
Their society is not divided,
In various nations,
They speak only one language,
They believe in an universal religion,
To teach that religion,
No prophets were sent,
No books were written,
As he wrote it in DNA of all,
It's play of life, it's love sweetheart.
We have played it while flying in the air,
And while swimming in the blue oceans,
It's scattered on the earth,
It's Soul that colors in the flowers,
The Aroma that touches, hypnotizes and mesmerizes,
The pleasant rains and the lovely clouds,
The exciting winds of heavenly springs,
And the cold of winter in which,
The distances tend to Absolute Zero!
The need of time is to learn once again,
From the animals who are still innocent,
Fair and honest in all their games,
As the basic game of love they play,
With same old passion of amateur players,
I bow my head and I salute their spirit!