Over the frozen dusky stones,
I spend lot of my life times,
In sadness,
Thinking of the days :
When I was the swift moving river.
I have bright voice, of fresh wildflower,
On my one direction ,
Each symphony , dance like peacock in rains .
If I wish ,
I could make botanic illustration of clouds .
But ,
My curse is,
I have tools to express;
whatever that still remains.
My soul is unable to raise.
If you see me today ,
You shall be very sad .
Someone has covered
22 years of my life ; by dusty brown spider webs .
Innumerable Wrinkles,
Over petals of young roses
Are holding the life of my each parts .

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