This my waiting,
Oh I know, Love,
It cannot be unavailing.
The posy had bloomed in form and scent,
That fragrance, beaten it won't be.
Floral pollen floats unto azure distant;
The end of its journey, where is that?
It's got lost, that can't be said;
Sacred effort it has gone on making.
You exist, I exist, and there is a passage Yours;
Along that same course goes my psyche's chariot.
Age after age, that movement is my only treasure,
What fulfills each and every longing.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
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