Untitled II

#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #156caf; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; box-shadow: 0 1px 0 #156caf; } #listen-container:hover { background: #2f9cf1; } #listen-container a { color: #fff; } .listen-container-svg { fill: #fff; height: 20px; width: 22px; margin-right: 5px; } #text-player { margin-right: 0; display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; top: -3px; position: relative; float: none; font-family: "Roboto","sans-serif"; font-size: 12px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; } Listen to this Poem Your browser does not support the audio element. O God, if you would ever question me, This would be my outright answer to Thee: True, I sinned-brutalised my own being, But what Have I done against you, my King? Did I make myself? I'm your creation. Why drench me in sin, Benevolent One? I saw dungeons when I opened my eyes- Teeming with devils, temptation and lies. To shun death by Hunger, many a time, In prison, I had to eat dirt and grime. Did your dominion become any less? Did I usurp any of your prowess? Are you Hungry? Did I eat your ration? Did I deprive you, cause your starvation? Do you still seek revenge though you hilled me, Since I rotted, since darkest soil filled me. You built me a bridge to cross, thin as hair; Out of your traps I'm to choose my own snare. How can a man pass through a Hair-thin bridge? He falls or clings on or flies off the ridge. Your slaves build bridges for the public good, Those who pass through it head for the Godhead. I wish its firm foundation will hold sway So those who cross it know it's the true way. You set a scale to weigh deeds, for your aim Is to hurl me into Hell's crackling flame. A scale is suitable for a grocer, For a small merchant or a jeweller. Sin, though, is the vilest, filthiest vice, The profit of those unworthy of Grace. You can see everything, you know me-fine; Then, why must you weigh all these deeds of mine? No harm ever came from Yunus to you; Open, secret-all things are in your view. God Almighty, why all this talk, why must We prattle about a handful of dust?