Promised
Guests
The precinct
of the holy shrine,
Equally parted
by the glass,
The crowd of
hearts rushing through,
The
open doors of gold and brass.
Eyes are
wandering, hands are drawn,
Hearts are
focusing, on a center known,
Absent from
eyes, felt by the hearts,
At every
moment, noon
and the dawn.
Innocents, the
sinful, have been warmly
Welcomed
morally, by the kindest host,
Urban,
villagers, white and the black,
With a neat
clothing, or the face with dust .
One side the
ladies, the other the men,
Crying,
praying, seeking the cure,
Of pains of
the heart, and the illness more,
Thousands,
hundreds, and dozens of ten.
All were
promised, surely by the lord,
To be replied
to on Revival Day,
At Bridge, and
Recon, and Record of the deed,
Pilgrims
visiting, the Shrine three
fold,
Not a bit of
pain, may a person gain,
Of crowd of
men, feelings embodied,
All wishing
for human being goodness,
All around the
world, wherever they lived.
Hands are
stretched towards the heaven,
Under the
dome, with colorful mirrors,
Where upon
candles, of swinging bright,
Amongst the
tiles, blue and green.
The chamber
surrounded, upon which there are,
Four gold
vases, holding tulips,
Sitting on the
leaves, out of branches,
Saluting the
guests, from ways far.
Many
whispering with foreheads on clay,
With a humble
heart, and the secrets to say,
Pray for the
sons and , daughters and the mate,
Being kept
healthy, the evils away.
A- Sarvedalir
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