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At the bosom of the heaven,
The woe keeps on spinning the wheel.
The Milestone accompanies for hours,
But the journey doesn’t end anywhere.
The night is ready to meet the dawn,
But my distance is not yet over.
My children’s misfortunes
Have stained my clothes,
And the aloneness continues to lick my blood.
The straws I gather from the ridge of the suburb,
The Sun transforms them into the woes.
It’s the eyes, that caused my dreams to burn,
I remain under the sneaky watch of my own coffin. (en) |
