From where you collect these gossip?
Those are just like the red leaves of pitch tree.
That hectic red escaped every now and then
The unhappy meadow lark repose in the weary valley,
Her tune is like the flow of a harmonica,
My beloved scolded me in a way of adore.
The east wind flow like a fluid mouth organ
In this huge cosmos mortal fights with own problems
The chemical reaction of desire is strange.
Destiny floats with the tide and ebb,
Destiny ! you fetal one rob my every thing.;
The foot print of disaster passes through a melancholy evening,
The assure veil of horizen has turned
The symphony of footsteps knell the whole day