You don’t know
why do I long for my village
the very day I reach
this painted town of snow white.
Look!
Love, a trade here!
Petals of marriage, in easy installments!
Hands there to raise dust!
Mask of sensations leaving streams of miseries.
why do I long for my village
the very day I reach
this painted town of snow white.
Look!
Love, a trade here!
Petals of marriage, in easy installments!
Hands there to raise dust!
Mask of sensations leaving streams of miseries.
Yet nightingale’s haunting melody, a dream
Scented flavor of early spring, a mirage.
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