I have lost my sleep maybe in faraway dreams
What if in those lonely and silent lines,
Maybe it’s been lost in the white of desired winters
Or in the forthcoming green of springs.
What if that dreams are stolen by glitters of summer,
And what if they are hidden by golden hair
Of colourful autumn sundown… hey!
And what if condemned me to immortal longs they.
Believe me, you, my judgment painful is
As I didn’t understand what my struggle is
As I didn’t realize my paying price
As I didn’t use my left-handed brush.
Whenever I looked at that willow weeping
I always avoided resemblance to it,
Struggled I in vain with the dark of night
Poor Me is condemned to road of exile.
And even if I lose my mercy,
It’s only when I am judged by me
When I compare with others me
When I name a hermit me.
When singing to you and trying to help you
When uttering your name as a vow
I have lost my only property
My orphan sleep which belongs to others, already.
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