Moon rose, stars shine
with all that I played
every right I heard
I instantly obeyed
they sleep, they enjoy
I woke and I stayed
that grips and that whips
the picture that swayed
did not enjoy a song
or chirped, cried or brayed
He, who made thy face
is worthy to be prayed.
Mohammad Ilyas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beauty-68/
