This day is the habit of everyone going and breaking the heart, the
pain of all the lovers sitting at someones feet
, this day the childrens homework is a page of chaos
on the mirrors, only the sadness of life
, this day the pain of lovers is only sadness, the
problem of starless people is a little bit of star-picking
, this day Goldonas work has become more dewy, the
anemones wish is to become a pigeon one night,
this day our sky is full of broken ballets,
the place of your lovers gaze is open in the house,
this day it is the work of people They took the pure hearts
, then they took them and handed them over to someone else, these days, peoples
work is waiting,
their simplest excuse is that they didnt know each other,
this day the share of lovers, grief and infidelity, the crime of all
of them is just the joy of getting to know
each other, this day in each cage, one or two canaries
, at night, the sadness of the canaries in the sleep is going on,
this day, everyones eyes are drowning in the need of dew,
on the cheeks of every lover, a few drops of rain,
sadness, this day, the children are playing. The wheels and squares
of our hearts like the sea are full of scratches and cracks,
this day the habit of flowers, death and making excuses, the
work of peoples eyes drives the heart crazy
, this day our dream work is to build a house out of oregano, the sign of the
butterfly has lost lives,
this day our only thing, maybe the dead bird,
the clean roof of the sky, the stars,
these days, people no longer have a place in their hearts
, people no longer have a drop of the sea in their hearts,
these days the carpet of the alley. Wherever
someone waits for the arrival of a passenger,
this day no traveler returns home, tired
eyes remain closed forever,
these days the stories are all heart-wrenching stories,
in short, everyones words are full and they dont stay, this day peoples
pain is only the sadness of no one,
their life is the result of regret and regret,
this day our happiness was not behind the fog, the
work of all poets is only a song of songs,
this day is pain. People have an umbrella in the rain
, wet eyes and waters along with the river,
these days, friends are no longer honest with each other, they leave a
time in each others lives and leave a place for
peoples hearts, this day is hard and stoned
, only in painting, the world is beautiful and colorful
, this day the crime of love is the city of heart and selling,
the solution is only to sit and burn at the feet of an eye,
no one knows the name of the flower these days,
but you as much as you want. This day is a strange place,
this day is the opportunity for love, the
wounds of the stars, the thirst for jasmine,
this day, our tears are the only remedy for restlessness, the
only refuge for people, photos of souvenirs,
this day, the season of homesickness, love and crazy bodies
, the hatred of Kal Baghche, waiting for a rain,
this day, my good friends lose each other, they
sacrifice their pure and simple hearts for people,
these days, people lurking behind the mask of the window
, you see less of the person who will forever It is
true that not everyone here likes autumn, when autumn comes, they step
on its leaves,
but maybe they have a wet hatred in life, they
have some sorrows and a sadness and impossible wishes,
this day we should all be neighbors for each other, at
night we should be a little worried about the neighbors child,
then again People fold their hands, they
endure the pain of purple together,
if we help each other, life will be spectacular, good
friends will stay on the pledge forever,
but no, I dont think its an
