Satish Verma

June 5, 1935

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I was hurt,
I speak.
Out of modesty,
will write the unspoken stance.

Overview is mine
I have not read you
cohesively. Your vacant eyes,
your trembling lips.

To know the truth
of meaningless nuances, to listen
the gain of sea, watching
the length and depth of water.

Moonlight was aging
where the shadows dance,
in circle to trap the sun,
for a noble sacrifice.

Bondinggoes for mortgage.
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