You are ringing the bell of missing,
You are followed by caravan of grieves.
The sting of the flower sews the body
The moon’s chant buries the flowers
The magic flower gets secret of my shadow.
I washed out my life in its magic-enchantment.
Oh, wind, taste my grieve, one slice only,
Then you will not envy the death of me
Are you tired from ringing the bell of missing,
In the desert of your woes the saxaul burns.
You can’t be reached
You can’t be departed
Your lashes are a bridge,
A road to my hopes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem