For accepting my flower,
The request of my child's eyes,
To your 19 year old bosom, breathing in delight,
To start what you decapitated in your fit of frenzy,
And madness is your eternal love next only to me.
To give voice to the cuckoo in you,
Is like our child speaking in you,
Does not matter what tounge she speaks,
Whether English! Bangla, Gujarati, Urdu, or Kannada,
I wish She spoke German too,
But as long as she speaks your breath,
And she speaks as your breasts heave,
Your eyes timeless leak,
Reek of our love,
My life stands justified of its eternal mission.
I love you my desolate, lonely, forlorn and scared vermillion.
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