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You left like the wind scattering,
The wet was gone from my eyes, hard.
I remained swimming in the joy of youth,
The grieves were gone from my heart.
Being happy from my survival
The grass would kiss my ankles.
Your separations are a pence for me,
I melted from the severe sufferings.
The days released from torture
Are longing for my visits, say.
The grieves would melt slowly
The storms would wail in far away.
I am not fed up from life,
I'm thirsty for life's wine.
My sin is I used not to water
You gave me in a poison bowl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem