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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464551" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Distributors</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I bother not who regards me, <br>A split being or a psycho-case, <br>Telling you fact, undoubted fact.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once my ethereal inner self, <br>Took a flight, landed on the plains, <br>Remote, too far to explore, <br>With the material means of wisdom, <br>Found myself in a spacious barrack.<br>The wide floor and thick walls, <br>Were made with rectangular sills, <br>Of stone hard, gray and quite old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Covering with the white sheets, <br>A few men in deep silence, <br>Lay resting on the low cots; <br>In the slight dark as we feel, <br>In the deep shade of a thick grove, <br>A slight after the sunset or before rise; <br>It was dusk or dawn, I could not decide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wishing to have a view of the outer world, <br>Went up the steps leading to the roof, <br>Saw the world much bigger than ours, <br>Vast sky with a few remote stars, <br>Emitting out light thin and faint, <br>Looking around a man I found, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The poor fellow not much reverend, <br>In the eyes of inhabitants of the world, <br>With whom I have been acquainted, <br>Since my playful child-hood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He by profession was a barber, <br>He was distracted strolling about, <br>The ridges on his faced exposed his heart, <br>He told me his worry, cause of confusion, <br>Making a gesture to a small room, <br>Accosted me to plead his case, <br>To an elderly person resting there, <br>That from the womb of his wife, <br>He had no delicious fruit of life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On his plight I could not refrain, <br>Went straight into the small room, <br>Where I saw a humble man resting, <br>In a chair with a book large, <br>Opened wide upon his knees, <br>Wearing brown simple dress, <br>Serious gentle looking had he, <br>With the knees bent, I sat in front of him, <br>On the floor, covered with a mat, <br>Made of dried palm woven leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I said confessing “ I am a servant, <br>And meek disciple of those great-men, <br>Who lead to the glorious path, <br>Of righteousness approved by Almighty, <br>This friend of mine does not have, <br>A child to remember his name; <br>Pray to God to bestow him one.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At my request he wrote something<br>In the book of fate opened wide<br>Nodding his head that meant, “ Yes.”<br>After a year I met the friend, <br>On asking he happily me told, <br>He had a baby daughter two months old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I exposed him not what I had seen, <br>But firmly felt, it revealed to me, <br>God is the creator of all treasures, <br>His sacred beings are the distributors, <br>The fate writers, subservient secret hands, <br>Have the authority to bless more or less, <br>But do nothing against the consent of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Muhammad+Shanazar">Muhammad Shanazar</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464551" data-title="The Distributors de Muhammad Shanazar" data-description="I bother not who regards me, 
A split being or a psycho-case, 
Telling you fact, undoubted fact.

Once my ethereal inner self, 
Took a flight, landed on the plains, 
Remote, too far to explore, 
With the material means of wisdom, 
Found myself in ..."></div>
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