K. Hassan
I
In earth’s deep wounds, where mortal hearts entwine,
Love’s fervent pulse doth defy the cosmic line.
A glyph of fire, by trembling hands engrav’d,
Doth blaze where human spirits stand unslav’d.
No fleeting spark, nor breath in darkness torn,
But souls in love’s embrace, forever sworn.
From memory’s roots, a bard ascends to sing,
His song of love, a flame with boundless wing.
II
No single voice his ardent throat doth bear,
But lovers’ cries, with grief and passion fair.
A chorus woven from love’s eternal thread,
Their mortal hearts a fire the heavens dread.
Each note a vow to pierce the tyrant’s veil,
Where love’s fierce light doth make the strong heart quail.
From scatter’d lives, their anthem storms the sky,
A torch of love to light where shadows lie.
III
Empires, in pomp, their cruel deceptions weave,
Yet love’s bright truth on mortal hearts they leave.
Their laws, in cold hypocrisy array’d,
Cannot bind hands by love’s sweet fire stay’d.
They wave their scrolls, with hollow might divine,
But love’s true quill rewrites the human line.
The bard’s sweet strain their treachery doth tear,
With love’s own might, where mortal hearts repair.
IV
In trembling earth, love’s pulse doth ever beat,
The throb of hearts that death cannot defeat.
His voice, a lute of passion and of fire,
Doth sing of love that tyrants can’t retire.
His song reweaves the soul with ardent thought,
By love’s fierce will, in mortal passion wrought.
’Gainst death’s cold hand and pow’r’s unyielding rod,
He sings of love that lifts us unto God.
V
No fleeting air, but love that dares to blaze,
Through war’s grim shade, where death’s cold shadow sways.
Two hearts, entwin’d in time’s relentless dance,
Clasp hands in love, defying fate’s expanse.
Their kiss, a spark that sets the soul afire,
A mortal love that burns through all desire.
Through them, a wound, a homeland’s beating core,
A love that holds though death’s dark tempests roar.
VI
In fields of strife, where mortal blood was shed,
A thorn bush blooms, by lovers’ tears still fed.
Its leaves a dirge for hearts by sorrow torn,
A scroll of love where human grief is born.
Its thorns, the scars of those who lov’d and died,
Hold tales no storm nor flame can e’er deride.
In silent bloom, it chants of love’s dear cost,
A hymn for those by death and love engross’d.
VII
Love here is no mere whisper of the soul,
But a rebel’s vow that makes the spirit whole.
A cry to shatter chains of cold decree,
A flame of love where mortal hopes run free.
Each kiss a creed, each gaze a sacred writ,
To free the hearts that death would else submit.
Their union lives in every lover’s hand,
A radiant beam across a mournful land.
VIII
He sang not words, but love in mortal guise,
His song a war ’gainst stars that tyrannize.
In cells of stone, where hope grows thin and frail,
He wove his art where lovers’ spirits wail.
His notes were born where lovers’ tears did fall,
Where love’s deep grief in iron chains did call.
He did not sing—he became their cry,
A flame of love to pierce the vaulted sky.
IX
They sought to still the tongues that sang of love,
To crush the hearts that soar’d to heav’ns above.
But from their lips, forbidden yet alive,
He fram’d a song where mortal love doth thrive.
Each note a root, each breath a spark of flame,
A language etch’d in every lover’s name.
From muted throats, a tree of love did rise,
Its fruit the hope that mortal heart supplies.
X
In maps of pow’r, cold chains of rule extend,
Yet love’s bright truth no mortal heart can bend.
Their words of peace cloak bonds that lovers bear,
But human hearts outshine their stern despair.
In every glance, in every lover’s truth,
Love’s spark renews the fire of boundless youth.
From shatter’d dreams and lives that still endure,
A song of love ascends, unbow’d, and pure.
XI
By Judi’s slopes, where rivers bear the scar,
Of lovers’ bones and dreams that linger far,
Two graves do sing with love the world forgot,
A lullaby for truths that death cannot.
The thorn bush there, from lovers’ anguish grown,
Holds in its thorns the strength of flesh and bone.
It stands for love, for those who strive and fall,
A root of hope to keep their hearts in thrall.
XII
Each thorn a mark of love the law hath scorn’d,
Each petal soft with tears by lovers mourn’d.
This flora chants in voices love suppress’d,
By hands that bury dreams of the oppress’d.
Yet still it breathes, through tales of love’s sweet pain,
A truth no pow’r can ever hope to chain.
In every root, a prayer for those who roam,
In every stem, love’s claim to call it home.
XIII
This land is no mere line on tyrant’s scroll,
But a stage of love where mortal spirits roll.
Its earth a song, its rivers flowing verse,
A cry of love to break the despot’s curse.
Not just a place, but a tale in blood and bone,
Through every heart that dares to call it home.
Each ruin speaks, each silence holds a plea,
A grammar born of love’s eternity.
XIV
He was no shade, but a flame of human mold,
A storm of love, unyielding, fierce, and bold.
His song a spark, unbound by death or dread,
A voice that wakes the living and the dead.
His notes a tide where lovers’ rivers join,
His silence strong where broken hearts anoint.
Each pause a cry, each strain a living key,
To free the soul through love’s infinity.
XV
Yet treachery came, a shadow clad in trust,
A disciple’s hand did turn his song to dust.
His heart, once true, by envy’s venom sway’d,
Betray’d the bard whose love had never fray’d.
The bard did fall, his throat by falsehood stilled,
Yet love’s own fire no traitor’s hand could kill.
The wound becomes the page where truth is writ,
And every heart keeps burning, bit by bit.
XVI
In every child’s fierce and tender gaze,
The bard’s bright love no treachery can erase.
In scatter’d tongues, in dreams that wander wide,
In lovers’ steps where guiding stars abide,
He lives through love that breaks the chains of time,
In every soul that dares the upward climb.
No border holds the breath of human fire,
No traitor’s deed can still love’s fierce desire.
XVII
What is a homeland but a lover’s cry,
A tale of loss beneath a weeping sky?
What is a people but a flame of love,
A song of grief that soars to heav’ns above?
What is a song but a heart’s own sacred chart,
A spark of truth in history’s wounded heart?
He sang these truths with hands that shook and bled,
And planted love where mortal dreams are fed.
XVIII
No god could frame the song his heart hath spun,
Born in the fire where mortal love is won.
It breaks the bounds of heavens cold and still,
A cry of love no doctrine can fulfill.
A sacred spark in lovers’ hands held high,
A flame of truth to light the darken’d sky.
His song, a blaze that cuts through endless night,
Burns through the chains with unrelenting light.
XIX
Now every vale, each lover’s hand and heart,
Sings in the tongue where broken bridges start.
His notes become the breath of those who strive,
A storm of love to keep the world alive.
The people rise, one heart, one boundless soul,
Beneath a sky where lovers’ dreams are whole.
Though traitor’s hand did strike the bard’s last breath,
In human love, he triumphs over death.
Now every vale, each lover’s hand and heart, Sings in the tongue where broken bridges start. His notes become the breath of those who strive, A storm of love to keep the world alive. The people rise, one heart, one boundless soul, Beneath a sky where lovers’ dreams are whole. Though traitor’s hand did strike the bard’s last breath, In human love, he triumphs over death.
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