That day on the other side of the field
Below the golden golden fall
When the fair grass grasshoppers are there
In Bakattala, Phultala lives in the game of life
I was back in the tragedy: I went back to:
My childhood in the world.
Tears of joy over the face with the mother; The narrow path of the path; Pasture land; In the small river flowing through the kulukulu robe, the flutter and fluttering of the flute-
All of them were in the moment:
Two eyes on the screen.
Then
The days of those little days;
The days of those lost days;
Kashavan - The words of Ghasaban Akash
I did not know myself suddenly thinking: I felt selfless. I think now:
Alone! Bad one alone !!
Then then
I'm looking forward to the blurred vision for a while
The distance towards the sky. Dreams come back from the luxury prairie to get back-
Put the foot
Reality on the ground.
Really, there is no longer the spring breeze of good life in my life. So the eyes are so
No more sparks of sunshine. Kharokhata open life now around
I only see:
Chandrabhak Amavasya night.
Dream interpretation is no longer on my chest. Now I myself
I do not know. Now I just look around:
No limit zero time
More
Bookworld Sighs
Now all of the profits of anger
So-
It flows over your chest. Heavy sigh in the chest, as a revelation
Suddenly two sentences of four words:
False world!
False life !!