With all my ages
Why we met in the bright Alastu day
Not in usual edge of evening of Wednesday
Or Saturday or Sunday
When you painted the sun with purple
With a glance of citrus orange and violet
Slicing my arteries as slight as a razor blade
You are the greatest grief of my life
You are the root of the universe of my misery
Van Gogh called you true love
Who for eternity I immortalize in the sorrow of poetry
by:cecep samsul hari (rimbun dahan)
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar