I write with a broken pen with a
heart full of pain
, I write from my lonely moments
, from the moments of waiting
, from the blackness of his eyes,
from the fire that his gaze has placed in my heart,
I write from him, from all the
world and his possessions, I lack
your shoulders, for the wound of the
dagger of poison, my friend,
who has just come, dont leave me alone
, stare at my good eyes, see how old I
am, find me, well, I am dying. Im leaving
, theres not even a flute to read, its
been a long time in the silence of my captives sadness
, give me a good moment, take my soul and body from me, I
knock on every door for a happy moment, I
go back to Omar, and I was happy even for a second, even you
are from me, what is left, I
write about
him, from him, who is my lonely
role in the hustle and bustle of a party
of torment and suffering, whose heart is my heart. I
write in the darkness of a night of oblivion
,
I write so that he knows that his heart is waiting for him sitting
on this alley
, I write
, I write standing from you,
O stature of Rana, my beautiful moments,
acquaint me with my homesickness, my spring,
my days and my dear sea, my train is far away, my train is
only a second of love, except for this, I
have no expectations from this day
, in the darkness of the moonlit night, be my stay
, be the good interpretation of my dream, be
you who you are. Donnie, I will die without you,
be the end of my torment story
, give me a good moment, take my soul and body from me, I
will knock on every door for a happy moment, go
back, I am gone, I was happy, even for a second, even
you are from me, what is left?
