My Dear
You've come out of the books
You've come out of the dry roses
When I looked my old stuff, again
You've come out of closed envelopes
Nothing can stop you my light
You've come out of the wood holes
Your laughter tells me something
You've come out of the titles of love
How simple is the breath, you take
You've come out of the torments
There is neither demand nor curiosity
You've come out of wrong thoughts
Time will not return, you will be useless
You've come out of the misery's shelter
Your quietness tells me, Imran!
You've come out of questions
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