تحلیل شعر

To whom should we give an account of our actions? All the questions were wrong; what answers could we give?

The sleeplessness of ruined centuries was in our eyes. Now, what dreams could we give in these endless voids?

Hearts of beloveds were like travelers in the wind. What torment of a single home could we give them?

The desire for the wine of the heart was under the law's guard. In such tightness, what wine could we give?

Muneer, the desert has always been like a mirage. What water of desire could we give to this mirror?