The mirror of my heart had lost all its shine in September
In my life, for the first time, I drank some wine in September
Broken waves of Saharan sand show condition of my heart
Scatter'd pieces of the clouds could not combine in September
This sad incident took place in November Twenty Fourteen
In December just memories, she was mine in September
Don't look at me, o gentle passerby of these dry mountains
On the bank of dried Aral, I'm a lost pine in September
Now you are swimming with me in waters of Atlantic
Aghast! No bliss returns to me as all was fine in September
This is the world of infidels, don't go outside my pious heart
In Republic of Satan, nothing's divine in September
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem