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urdu poetry

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
veja, eles retornam
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
macio como a cama na terra
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
quando eu olhei em seus olhos
na meia-noite
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta

 



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