|
| |
The Beheaded
I go to bed at three,
I usually wait beneath the plum tree,
That tree is useless like my name,
You and I are in a blissful game!
You are too sweet for me,
Never lived inside me as if you were a great flea,
You are too weak for me,
Never spent a day without thinking of me!
But do you care who I am?
Do you know what it means to be my charm?
Are you my affluent appetite?
I am never your desired guide.
I am the master of manners to you,
I was not willing to sacrifice my mind for you,
You are always ready to make a voyage with me,
I never think of you that we can be a cherished memory.
My coffee never turns cold when you are sitting beside me,
Sleep tight until the sun rises in your daydream,
You do not need to discern what's inside my head,
I am on another trip just before you wake up and call me the beheaded.
Copyright ©
Abir Sawran
|
|