Fills me full to the brim
In the dream
Anxiously am I to keep an eye
For thine are you to repent
With the broken hearted end.
No man can have patience more
But to shun up his bore
Day by day become feeble
Not any more get you able.
Slow, slow and slow
Winds blow.
Heart and ribs
Grinded piece
All aspirations blown up in
Due expectation
Fairy - like dear now not near
To console to sympathize
On your sore.
Dear of mine only a sign
Of past event in queue nine
Whom are you dreaming for?
Can't you hold in arm or
Drive speedily you
To regain broken stricken
Physique unto in brighten.
