I do not know why my moon is not visiting my
sphere,
Why she is depriving me of her charming cool fervor.
Knowing well about the craziness and hunger of my
core,
Why she preferred to hide behind a dense cloud
cover.
Dear moon; you are the lone precious gift of God to
my poor nature,
Kindly do not try to make your accursed poor a
griever.
It is injustice for a celestial being as you to
torture your reliant,
Without fault, after seizing his soul in your gracious
enchantment.
Oh moon dear, do you think I will try to find
solace,
In any other artificial or natural luminary of the
universe?
If you think so, then it is an insult to my sincere
adoration,
And a distrust in my innocent sweetest emotion.
I will not sing a song any day for another luminary
of the constellation,
And insult your graceful glow and my proud proclamation
of affection.
I would prefer to remain drowned in the fathomless
darkness forever,
Cry each night in the memory of my honeymoon with
your glimmer.
Touching .
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