In my own designs I have always dreamt of you
In all these years I have walked away towards the notion, of the people I thought they will raise you from death
I still hold your robe of gentleness with the hands that saw all the seasons, of your cold heart and health
In all my art I have always paved your name as a signature of my loving memory
Years may go by, but you will always be my golden dew
If words were only meant for poets, then I rest all the essence of our lives in this short story.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem