The Final Parting
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Someday, may be tomorrow
I will not come to meet you
I will not give you time to
Come to the street corner to
Have tea sitting on the wooden
Bench and smoking cigarettes
May be tomorrow
In the early hours when there
Will be a power cut and the fan
Stops moving and I sweat in my
Bosoms and armpits my interest
For you will die; I will not send
You a good morning message
Then you will realize I have
Changed the pot in which the
Flower has gone stale and died
Bu şiiri puanla
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