What better way for my emotions to die? br than in the hands of the instinct br it was given birth by. br I never surrendered to anticipate and br all the while I hoped and wished and prayed. br There would come a day I so believed br when my rhyme would make you realize, br and leave me relieved. br My poetry wears not mere words as ornaments for decoration br but speaks of the spirit which led to its creation br It is good to be destroyed by the hands of which one is created br So that loss of the asset is never regretted. br Expire in me the power to raise a verse may br Expression such that my feelings for you couldn't convey… br Someday had you sung to me in praise of a foreign verse br The day you left on my elegy forever a deep laden curse… br br My conscience on the threshold of time was thrown br Yet I have not forgotten myself to a stone. br Still I breathe and still I dream, br Still to proclaim my notions, I scream br In the echoing wind vanishes my voice... br Leaving my reminiscence in a vague poise. br Dies all reverberations, deafening me, br Fades my vision, no more with clarity can I see. br Weakens my body and abates my heart, br Refuses my soul from your desire to part... br Collapses my anxiety, subsides the tears br Ceases my anger, dies my fears. br Written or spoken whichever the mean br Revelation of truth still remains a sin.