My Life's Literature Poem by Shafee Pitafi

Now I am left alone in the desert of your love,
All the oceans are screaming: my sympathy.
Nightingale has all the locution for my love,
I am falling down like water devolves,
Rain has no drops to wet me thoroughly.
I scent me in the massive squeezing of wind,
You are the greatest tragedy of my life's literature.
All seasons have changes,
The same as you have,
No greenery refines me now,
As you once were the beauty of the greenery of my sigh.
No access I am left with,
To reach your heart boldly.
I am busy in struggling,
To plant a new heart in my body,
But seems insoluble as you have to the seeds of my heart.
You were my wisdom and boldness,
I am now dumb sans you.
Nothing, I have to do,
Only deem about you,
Only write about you.
I am in wait too for the wind,
To fly me over where,
No one could get me back.
Yes, I here mean to meet Him:
My spiritual love,
Yes, I am talking about another life: the real life,
Where no shadow of you can see me,
Where no love of you can breadth me.