When my opticals becomes hazy
I choose self-banishment
Past comes so nearer
And enlivens all
That were kept in darkness
For long
My dear
Why do you come so often
Believe, I want to forget you
And all that happened
Well, if you come again
I must not stoop to past
Rather, my self-banishment
Turns into a melancholic joy!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem