Women:

Don't come too far to the islands of woolen clouds attached to this heart

But I still stand on the balcony in the evening,

Myopia has fallen down the ladder of cosmic emptiness.

But in the alphabet of love carefully guarded for a long time

Tears are dripping from the disobedient jochana.

The moon is still a weary traveler with the fire burning in the ashes of the mind,

Her tears are wet evening rain music.

.

One day in the middle of hundreds of people with whimsical minds

I also had some vivid dreams,

Seeing the relentless screams and wails of the frustrated Kakes

I found a silver phoenix,

I wanted to touch the bluish Maya sand in the middle of a gloomy light,

There was a feeling of hugging the grass carpet with hairy chest.

Knowing the age was going at its own pace

The rest of the way to hold your hand in the distant future

But look, girl, seeing your deception still makes Alpana shed tears

In the frost of memory,

A small attic or a night poem painted in the tears of two eyes.

.

In this city of neglect, I was the only one living,

Seeing your joke, the tune of the flute stopped today,

The sun letter, carefully arranged in a blue envelope, is torn,

Some concrete blocks and stones have accumulated in the wall of the heart.

Even after so many things, this pair of eyes has been nailing separation for eternity,

Embrace the memories in the illusion of the path,

I lay down for a while with the pain of deception,

The night is exhausted, the moon sinks, they are extinguished

But I wake up again, multiply the days in the calendar and sow the seeds of hope.