Withered Heart Poem by Fatima Nusairat
Withered Heart
Here's the wheat spikes
in the first dawn joyful hours;
Loosen her braids while
dew slips above her neck,
roaming up and down,
approaching slightly
as a nightingale song,
or as adorer towards
those golden homes.
Here's the wheat spikes
in the first dawn joyful hours;
Loosen braids..
like a charming breezes,
So why - as a gloomy cloud
my heart wither?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 6:25:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
