I have the harrow of love in my heart
I have the wing to fly in your air
Like the breeze Which blows from time to time,
I pass over your area
The heart is boiling in the pot of my chest
I have water from the clay pot of spark
I am not afraid of the fearless enemy
I am complaining about the ill- mannered lover
Years passed by waiting
I have nothing but soil in wet eyes
The impoverished love has made me suffer
I have no dark night nor morning
I say romantic sonnet
I have the harvest from the literature tree
My body is the nation of pride
I am whinning about the unsophisticated tribe
I am far from any trouble and enticement
I have simple life
The jealous eyes will be ashamed before me
I have the shield from blade of the prayers
I am from Badakhshan rich in garnet
I have good reputation in Kashem
I became the poet of my time
I have sweetness from the lips of words
I have been given the title of imperator of hearts
In descent I took after my father
God created me "Mahmood"
That I have such a say and piece of work
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Ahmad Mahmood Imperator