This week, I bring you an ancient Arabian poem:
On Fatalism
Not always wealth, not always force
A splendid destiny commands;
The lordly vulture gnaws the corpse
That rots upon yon barren sands.
Nor want, nor weakness still conspires
To bind us to a sordid state;
The fly that with a touch expires
Sips honey from the royal plate.
---The Holy Imam Shafay
I like this one because it's not about love, or spring, or beauty, but about life and death. The circle of life, really.
1 comment:
Mmmmm. Like the last line best.
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