2 reactions
Hear the words of pain from the lips of the girl mist
The love of fish wings touching the bottom of the Ganges is in the house of Aniket time -
Thirsty dreams of life are not dreams
One day I will bloom your rose in the port of heart.
I will be your home, the neon bubble touching your pain
I'll swallow, I'll be miserable forever,
Why did you forget to smile, big dirty face in the mirror,
Look at your own reflection, you will feel unfamiliar.
Ghee and sandalwood lamps in the rose-colored beautiful night of desire
I'll bathe you in the warm embrace of classical dance in the swoon of music,
Just smile once and see how I have not snatched the forbidden watches
I will light the fire with a long breath coming from the chest.
You and I will take sins into the body during worship,
Mundane, supernatural lawlessness will be washed away in monsoon
And if you don't laugh, life will be a slaughterhouse
When I dig wheat with spade, kanchi
Then I will see the pages of my diary flying in the blue sky
I dedicated the festivals of the dead to you.
Even above the sky, you have water pictures painted on the sky,
One day a flock of birds will come and sit in your faded moon yard.
The love of fish wings touching the bottom of the Ganges is in the house of Aniket time -
Thirsty dreams of life are not dreams
One day I will bloom your rose in the port of heart.
I will be your home, the neon bubble touching your pain
I'll swallow, I'll be miserable forever,
Why did you forget to smile, big dirty face in the mirror,
Look at your own reflection, you will feel unfamiliar.
Ghee and sandalwood lamps in the rose-colored beautiful night of desire
I'll bathe you in the warm embrace of classical dance in the swoon of music,
Just smile once and see how I have not snatched the forbidden watches
I will light the fire with a long breath coming from the chest.
You and I will take sins into the body during worship,
Mundane, supernatural lawlessness will be washed away in monsoon
And if you don't laugh, life will be a slaughterhouse
When I dig wheat with spade, kanchi
Then I will see the pages of my diary flying in the blue sky
I dedicated the festivals of the dead to you.
Even above the sky, you have water pictures painted on the sky,
One day a flock of birds will come and sit in your faded moon yard.
1
| 28,000 mlx | |
| 17 | |
| 2 |