Ruslan, My Blood Brother
Ruslan is Caucasian and he’s my true blood brother
Unlike me, he has a rare Herculean body, and mind
Strong and bold he is, yet gentle; tall, and yet humble
Letting his shadow walks in to lowly, unrhymed mine
As protective carapace, against evil vices of this world
Not really happy seeing me, with a red pack and lighter
Speaking humbly the tongue, of love--the eye of peace
As we sat, contently, on the field of golden green tares
Nurturing his great ambitions, for my own wicked self
Thrashing out the timidity, of my broken heart and soul
Inspiration he is, for me, till I became exactly, like him
A silent poet, like fog in early morn with a gentle rhyme
Good morning to you, good morning to me, O, I see you
O my dear Robin, go now and fly, over the Caspian sky
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