7. The mourning

The Banyan tree In search of shade Holding close to its chest The yellowing leaves That speak of the lost ages. *** The scorching light of bulbs Shimmers up every leaf, That hangs in patches, And gets drunk On silly romantic tunes of film songs. *** The idols of holy pirs Keep company with The whistling youth Dancing in procession Passing through the shade of Opium. *** Oh, Lord Almighty When was this fantastic manner Of mourning Taught to your followers?