She snake

[akhtar]

There is a parable

Of him who was slain by the hands of a lover



Lotus flower, a lover’s prize, she said

Overwhelming to sleep

In the lair of a she snake

Stung by the poison of a needle
Shuddering instil was a pecker, a locust

Awoken from an endless omerta

She did not see, the heart so gentle
Cursed you are, of many a talent

You had me living in Jahiliyyah