تحلیل شعر

My chest is filled with blood Oh, this intoxicated tavern of mine

Who boasts of being unreachable Alas, that unfulfilled desire of mine

The heart, struck by grief, is punished by God My chest is torn apart by sighs

From the fierce and sharp gusts of memory Today every wound has ignited

Oh God, the memory of the past is a torment Take away my memory from me

I am free from the wheel of fate I have not been forgotten while I am alive

Life is a great amusement, Akhtar What do they ask about my activities?