Poetry - الشعر

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A Call from a Smiling Heart



,Hearts, normal or tough, on blood do feed
.Except my heart, which feeds on love, the sweetest seed
:Mine is like glass
.It shows not what’s in, for light through which can pass
,My heart can never be a mirror
For mirrors show seekers all sorts of horror
:And change faces as many as they meet
.Clean with the clean, and cracked in weeping eyes
Mine always smiles
.At people as far as thousands of miles
It always hopes that other hearts
Join it in smiling since it is never hard
.To make others happy when they see your smile
Hearts, normal or tough, on love should feed
.Since love, witness I, is the sweetest seed

14 March 1997