On this advent of spring, at whose bower of psyche,
Stealthily, oh Mind-Thief, a flower You plucked.
You then went away, taking bloom with its honey;
But the stalk You left behind, hey Callous One.
I ruminate about only Your message;
But You go on making sport, not a word You utter.
In the pulse You bring is talkativeness,
And in that is my mental chukor;[1] absorbed.
Since time out of mind You are my companion
Upon the endless path, the thread of Your love.
You having wiped my tears, it keeps me tied up;
Thus, by Your ideation I've been stunned.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Monday, September 20, 2021
I just don't get that
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Having a pal like You is no bargain; Your love is a trap.
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