At Night My lost Memory of You returned
And I was like the empty field where spring time,
without being notice is bringing flowers;
I was like the desert over which, the
breeze moves gently with great care,
I was like the dying patient who, for no reason smiles.
.......................................
If you look at the city from here, you'd realize
that in the entire crowd there's nobody really dignified
nobody truly sagacious;
Every young man's in a noose
every woman a branded slave. (So true!)
No comments:
Post a Comment