Dearest Joy

Every candle burned out, and the stars slept late in splendour.
Sceneries disappearing early revealed the jolliness, 

Winds flying to great heights played the violins of his greatness.
The clouds napped in ditches.
of the hills, 

The groves are still, and the rills are mute.
Every candle burns out slowly and slowly, 

And the sweet night departs sincerely, 
Where are you? Give a voice, dearest joy, 

When in the solitude, my spirit annoys
© Poet Affaq 

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