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şeirlər poems

VI
What you mean by freedom
Is a garden of flowers in spring…
Growing up in its sorrow…
And a handful soil
You will kneel on
And your head will rest on
Is a beauty’s place
Of untimely flirt...
Ice coats of the four walls
Will not melt, will not.
A newly-born child
Will not keep silence, will not
Either for lullaby,
Or for toys.
Close the windows of your eyes
Opening at the fogs.
But keep an eye of hope
In your eyes...

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