‘I stopped looking at you too much
For fear that lest evil eye fall on you’
I stopped thinking of you more often
For the fear of forgetting my own self
I stopped talking to you every day
For the fear of losing my speech
I stopped my ears from listening your sweet voice
Even honey started to taste bitter for me
I stopped writing about you every hour
My readers began to complain against you
O Malanadan Rose. Do justice to this Nightingale
Pray for a remedy from Him for my sickness to heal!
Feb 10 2004.
Malanadan: of the land of mountains