The High Hill
A
Abdul Wahab
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Altın Yaprak
Mirror reflects me ditto
Shadow follows everywhere
But fire which burns inside
No one dare to touch or capture
And none is there to call
Or echo my sweet name
So quickly I rush to you
To quench my thirst
With my heart’s content
I shout full of my throat
And how tasty it is to listen
With my own ears in your echo
My own name, the sweetest name
Bu şiiri puanla
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