The Weighty Spree Poem by Mohsen Zohrab Beigi

Within floated pouncing, the festive sun wakes me up,
To halo the bells of blissful,
To grant me a luminous crown,
As it authenticates my dead-on flown

Beneath luminous light, seven clouds of nine fly my delights,
Kaka Roha blows me up her obeisance,
Being enchanted with her fragrance herbs,
While swaying in Her soft stream,
As I am satisfied with that crown.

On the spur of the moment in the weary evening,
The canaries are condemned to embittered singing,
And the dull Sun says: ‘My cease-fire is bushed; your soothe is gone,
As life's Leech sucks your bowl's burn

OOO Kaka Roha, couldn't you see what dimness is again?
Couldn't you catch how dusky bells are ringing?
As I slumber in the Black coffin.

By the hand of darkness faith of mine,
Sorrows are fed by my sight,
And the opening coldness disruption says,
"thousands of untold stories from the road that no one is there, but death and I",
As I growl upon its cold blood.

OOO Kaka Roha,

Let me breathe my last breath,
Hold me to see my dim eyes,
Then set me free like the wind,
Fly me away,
From the fated flood of fog,
As the black strap of my hands and feet are Putting a thousand wounds on my heart.

OOO Kaka Roha,

My coffin is hefty tonight,
As is wrapped in the shroud of tight,
Through the darkness that I'd lied
And wishing a sagged flageolet calls out for that delight.