It was as usual, not anything new.
We had it allot, but still its few.
I was at flow, without a click.
Distinguished with drinks, but i prefer milk.
Manners and formalities, soft as the silk.
Roses of respect, bloomed in the vases.
suspects disposed, landed on the masses.
Few ugly intention, does not make other good.
Masks of the gentle, flows like a rays.
Laughter of faces, soft as the silk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem