Washerman
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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I wished I were a washerman
of the conscience.
Then I could wash out
jealousy hatred conflict
each first seed of sin
cleanse hearts
spread them in the sun
so once dried
there wouldn't be anymore tears
to dry
than those of joy!
I have ended up
quite close.
She calls me
washerman's donkey!
Bu şiiri puanla
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