My City; Now Is Sick Poem by sufian shojol
My City; Now Is Sick
This city
Is not sold by me.
We want to relate with each other
With closely.
Gathering pleasure with catching other’s hand
Time will passing away with the indifferent story of
Noon’s cooing
And
We will be sonorous with the results.
Now my city is sick –
Worship her, nothing is incompassable…
As nobody has the right of destroy the city.
Do, you wish. Keep my city smiley.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/19/2024 12:11:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
