Spin with your full ornaments,
spin in my head.
Your hands were stuck in bindweed,
doors and the sun which melts
in monotony where shade dies
in shrine of the cold.
growl at the peak of silence,
hurry up your movements,
as in your deep breath,
the fire shelters, the secrets
and the poems are burning in my chest.
Don't pour your perfume
while you are crossing
in the absences hole.
I see you trembling as
the willow shaken by the wind,
I see you filled with oppression,
Cracking as river, dying in longing
while looking for paths.
I see you looking back, whirls
As the wind wolves gathered
in the darkness of the death's net.
Where is the deer O Laila
where is the land? !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem