Asadullah! Prince! Thou who with baby Asghar yet would play
Were not Thine an intenser Korban than that of 'Agnus Dei'
Than cuddling a grandson, what Wine could be nicer?
Or Fate worse than, of Ajam, being but Kaiser?
That Halliburton's reach not exceed its grasp, Weep, Starry Heaven, Thine own Wudu lustration
To know the clammy clasp of Ham fisted reach-around in Wine's Noahide castration.
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