I never thought to do him a bad turn, And it occurred because of a mistake: My age was only seventeen years old, When that odd bird knifed me in the gateway. Like a good friend, he grinned without a trick, As if he had no disposition to fight, And gave me his right hand for shaking it, Whereas in his left one, there was a knife. There’s no thy fault, and so don’t thou wail, He cheated me with his kind look and grin. I see a ray which came to the gateway And cloaked itself behind the slop waste-bin...        
© Akbar Muhammad. Translation, 2009
(akbarmuhammad.awardspace.co.uk)