Closed window of a cruel owner,

how many sighs must heave for you?

You came riding full moons and rising suns

in a breeze scented of wild roses.

Eyes of ink and lips like a ripe fig,

you made my heart burn and consume

like a candle.

Your words gurgled like the clear water

of a stream.

Now they’re still. But mine are tears for love,

they’re not water.

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