Left in the ocean dark
to pluck off the blue tint,
stuck over my ill soul,
why do I hope the moon to appear
over my window tonight,
when you are long gone away
why do I grace my shrine,
lit candles every night?
why gleam at flute croon
and not sit for hours
looking sad and gloom?
The rain fall down
with the fragrance of musk,
making the wind move along
the dancing peacocks
In the busy street still
appear the busk
and you are long gone away
why water the song less tree,
slowly dieing waiting for spring?
and not waste all
the tuneless afternoons
over the glasses of gin?
eon passes, pinching a sad rose
slowly withering in a vessel of gold,
o hawk of desire!
witness another wounded cuckoo
inside the courtyard’s fold
I should have casted kohl
all over my deed,
maybe even fallen at your feet,
shading pearls of regrets
till you forgive,
but how does that matter now
when you are long gone away
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