how many lands did I roam
looking after you in vain
how many thorns I had their bite
and Oh how much was the pain
But here, sitting with my own
with my memory floating on and on
missing every single word of you
and these ideas that were just born
but in the circulation of the mind
and its concentrations going through
I found out myself saying senselessly
Oh me, how often do I miss you...
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http: //www.geocities.com/mat_group/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoyed the way of missing.