Why am I so sad?
I asked the waning moon.
The sun started flirting.
The vellum― still carries
the imprint, where you had
pressed hennas hands.
I came out once of
myself to look at me
from the falling star.
You would never know.
How had you cheated yourself once―
by praying for death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem