Dear thoughts,

Today, you have remembered your senses in the light of today's gentleness. In the shadow of literature, with deep compassion, you absorb our tiredness and make aesthetic look.
From the morning to the night, we used to love your hypnotic love. To be able to crawl in front of the eye, the poem would once again become poetry. The tunes of the mother's tunes were tied to the silence of the city's mechanics. The drama was screened on every eye stage. You have to worry about the elbaye ideas that you have done in the cleaning of red tea. Or.
In Basu's newly released poem, how many self-esteemed Devdas and Paruas are going to show the inconsistencies of society and surrender. I always remember, I remember,
In the hands of the guitar, the boy's eyes,
After all, the child's face was in the hands of the camera. Afterwards, the bloody eruption of your courtyard, and the evening dawn, the salt water still floats in the water. Shuncei Basuadah still goes to you, yet you still have the stomach of the pen from your stomach. Still in poetry, .? The idle time is tied in the chat or still fame?
It is very jealous of your joy every moment of the monastery ..!
Yet, I sent you with gratitude to the sky, the last spring, hidden in my heart!
You give it to your loved one
All Literary Priymen.
You are unique by erasing history
In your creations, be well.

Source

Yourself

No one

Think about

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