O lord, son of Leto, child of Zeus, you I shall never
Forget, either beginning or coming to an end,
But always, first and last and in the middle,
I shall sing of you. And you, hear me and grant good things.
by Raza Ali HasanIn the lull, the afternoon sun warms
the linseed field. The flowers are quiet,
their bright subdued in the green
while the mind wanders
to the emerald mosque upon the hill,