Oh…,
My Queen
Rock a cradle
on the swings of my suppositions
Sprinkle the spirits
on the pyre of my imperishable thoughts
when all those imperceptible heaven’s doors open
when all theses penances, anguishes and ecstasies comes to an end
Don’t be perplexed like a hiding new moon behind the curtains of shy clouds
Alas ! this wonderful sliver dusty Night also withdrawing it’s charming glows in wake of morning rays