The Man on the Sand

Daily, in afternoon when I go for prayer,
I see a man lying on the sand bare;
He seems a clear victim of tiredness,
With his loose body lost in sleepiness;

He has a green color shirt on his body,
And a white turban like a head with eddy;
With an unshaven beard loosen to grow,
Covering his face like a black color of crow;

The dust and smoke of the vehicles touch him,
They add to the sand and reach its brim;
The noise as usual howls around,
With a crazy tone and bitter sound;

When I return from the prayer he still sleeps,
In the bed of sand with long leaps;
I never see him awake on the sand,

He always rests in his own dream land.