You can’t wake up those who pretend to sleep

Far from my love,
my mind has no ease.
A lone cloud that
sails a distant sky.
And the autumn,
is not the autumn
of the old times.
Yet, the colour and beauty
of your love, like a
passion-flower pattern.
A path out of this blackness.
The lustre of this flower,
a guide from island- to-island.
Like a seasoned boatman,
I know the goal
on our path of love.
A garden full of flowers,
on those silky autumn nights.

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