Thank Thee, O Good Lord, for Thy grace, That with time we forget any woe. But what troubles me doesn’t melt, As if it’s the perpetual snow. It doesn’t melt e’en in the summer, When I burn with the heat... And I know well that this trouble Will be ever with me.
© Akbar Muhammad. Translation, 2009
(akbarmuhammad.awardspace.co.uk)