These evenings, all the evenings...
In which I remembered you in fear
In which my restless heart wandered like a thirsty shell
In anticipation of who is coming
These evenings
Do they have no meaning?
Those moments
Those moments of loneliness
When I talked to my shadow
In sorrow I threw away all those instruments
In which there are no notes left now
Those moments
Do they have no meaning?
Those moments, those very heavy moments
When I realized again
There is no other way except surrendering
When I bent down and touched the path with my forehead again
Then I weaved the beads of the anklets
Those moments
Do they have no meaning?
These moments, these evenings, these moments
Which remained frozen on the mind like fog
In the process of being created
Do they have no meaning?
I don't know why someone would tell me
There is something in the mind
That every pain that touches it
Doesn't go in vain in life
Whose mind is dedicated like flowers of worship
Unknowingly it causes pain and its refinement
accepts the vast reality outside
With bowed head easily
They all become lines of worship songs
This pain, this frustration, these evenings, these hours
What is there in these
That has no meaning!
Nothing is wasted!
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 馃槉馃檹 