It Is A Pity Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

THE HEART

Flirting and enchanting
By thousand ways
She came painting her eyes black
It is a charming night.
The wind is waving like a drunkard
Embracing the savories
from harassment
Going to holidays
Like evening flowers,
They don't keep from laughing
Being heard near or far
A lump in its throat
A little bird has cried out
The eyes of the earth
Gets used to the violet joy
The panic comes, but not pity,
To see the little bird
Which cried beautifully
Which was caught in the net.