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