A mournful attempt on a subject

Do not ask this heart whether he has fallen
Or whether he has faced upto the aches of battle,
Or whether time and the knowledge of the seers mean much
Tell me, where does one begin this story.
For for whom does his heart beat, I don't know,
I don't know

Ask him not whether he has fallen in love
For he says ‘I do not ask to see the stars in your eyes
Or the tufts of your curls where the glow of the moon seems to have
found a home, or the softness of your lips and
how the words, as they make their way out, form love sonnets
as they embrace me into your soul'.

O mighty one, or ye brothers, ye scholars,
Do not tell him I came or ask him who I am
Do you want to let the waters that nourish this land
Or the sun that shines to cease,
Do not ask him to stop for sometimes he knows not how

O mighty one, o ye brothers, ye scholars,
Can there ever be a bigger fool, has not our past taught us enough?
Can you make sense of such, or shall it be better to let him be
For he knows little and thinks even less,
Has not our past taught us enough ?
And as I end this story, O ye wise men,
i beseech you, for if you will for one moment pause,
And if you have the courage, ask him how he feels