O my pen! Come! Let me kiss you
A pain has woken up, perhaps,
For the pinch in my heart is increasing today.
Pains knocked at earlier also, but,
Wept hiding behind the door and the wall
Were not the sinners among the old, but
The world of anguish was alive, anyway, but
If one was in anguish there were sympathisers too
Behind curtains used to be the sinners,
An ointment used to be prescribed for every injury,
There used to be pains but with breaks and less severe.
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