On My Death

Around me stand my friends and kin,
And a person too whose heart couldn't win,
Grieved badly and tears they shed,
Seeing my dead body on the bed.

Oh! open not my folded shroud,
Let not them see my broken heart,
Let not express my pain on the crowd,
else none will love his beloved by heart.

Those who kicked down my lovely rose,
And compelled me whole night weep,
For my gifts who bestowed me pathos,
Now hiding their faces, they too weep.

Why you have made you eyes wet,
Wipe! Wipe! these drops of dew,
The rising sun has ever to set,
And so I, it was earlier view.

poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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