From the pain that melts,
Wounds, when inflicted of self,
Who then keeps a count?
Would ask God, someday,
Does every soul need to cry?
Life is just a long dream,
A beautiful death, in its realm,
Nazre, would you stay here, any longer?
Would somebody pray for you too?
Leaving all bonds, now walk away,
None longs for you, except you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem