neither a letter nor a message you send
let me know if you are fed up with me.
from where the sun sets,
your eyes rise into my nights.
i was immemorially born to suffer
i got used to longing, what can i do?
where you look into my old eyes,
your eyes rise into my nights.
the streets of furlough is impassable,
waters of it is undrinkable in its springs.
from the wet lips of you I kiss,
your words rise into my nights.
i was immemorially born to suffer
i got used to longing, what can i do?
where you look into my old eyes,
your eyes rise into my nights.