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urdu poetry

monde qui change sous ma main
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
près d'un champ en détresse
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
le jour est fait
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
par le pont grossier
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
je suis vieux et aveugle
je suis allé à travers les rues

 



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