SONNET 313
By JH Sayyar
When I feel burden on my head,
I fall down with a jerk like stone,
Wit laughs at me looking at shred,
My poor eyes weeping with groan,
What a life? Nothing but a chance,
The slave of beauty thoughts mean,
Chance rich’s minion; poor’s dance,
All wretched in mire, I have seen!
All bells; free of all earthly flaws,
The poor are fate slave since crawl,
Why wails and woes follow cause
None knows why God; life: a gall,
O God! Do justice among the poor,
Injustice rules brawl here evil doer
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