Don't wait!
The more you wait, the slower time goes by, Don't open your heart to one who can't grasp its secret.
Poetry: Love
Poems by Akrom Malik, newest first. Pick one for your mood.
Have You seen the image of a heart burned out?
Did You come and ask me how I am? Is burning Your lover Your one concern?
QUATRAINS
In my heart the fire of love is rosy red, Burning my soul, it purifies it day by day.
TO LOVERS
If you love, agree to burn — and love, Agree to renounce yourself — and love.
LIKE YOU
No one, the way you did, has my heart Taken in as its confidant.
O separation, burn my body, if you will, in the fire of longing,
Save me from my ego; my heart bleeds from rebellion. Let me give my life to stay true in my love, O Lord,
Don't grieve; may the sorrows in your heart be few,
May a never-dying candle named hope burn in your heart! Your friend did not give you up, nor ever will, O lover,
Those who say “I missed you,” those who say “I loved,”
Who now and then grieved for you a little! If their longing were real, if their love were true,
Whether you love openly or love in secret,
Whether you burn with jealousy or renounce your love; Whether you come with a confession or rush off in hurt,
Writing poetry is an ordeal for me, my friend,
I can never speak a word in play and laughter. For a poem my heart has to burn,
In your days I shall not be seen,
In the garden I once roamed you will find no trace of me! Without you I shall not weep, without you I shall not laugh,
THE SECRET OF THE MOTH
So much is said about the moth, They say it hurls itself into the fire!
Since I fell in love with You, O Beloved,
I long to climb to the summit of love. If the arrow Your eye has shot engulfs my being,
This man has come to sacrifice himself against happiness,
Has come to be consumed in love for the good. Saying there is no meaning in the world but love,
Love is a key that opens the door of secrets,
Love is a light from which the devils flee. By the power of love the cliffs move from their place,
At times, against the bitter poison of parting,
I took the sight of you as an antidote. In the bosom of a gilded, melancholy autumn