Virtue is my sin,vice is your grace,
O darling you are on fame’s mad voyage!
It is the fool we value, not the sage,
Who bore the pain, without complaint,
O ye with thoughtless pride elate!
One who is offended by sun’s glare,
Always quarrel like perpetual rain!
Who longed for glory,to whom flattery conveys!
Truth belied and hollow praise,
Ye are the narcissius,to whom arete says-
O ye the bubble of artificial fame!
Seeking solace in sweet tongued sycophant,
Time consumes both vain and gay,
With speedy growth we’ll wither and decay,
A time will come, when our tombs will remain,
Smooth is the descent,easy is the way,
Our judgement is upto Allah The Great!
uzmasaad 
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