A lure to end

Palms of grief are evoking me to strip,

but I'm not going to cry even.

Have gulped down those tears and added 

to that of mourn for my own soul.

Loud mourning is happened over,

but except those cries rather the perplexed grief,

which pours down fuel to this worldly play.

With that passion to die,

searching the probable end;

Yet, chores remaining till I close these winks.

A lightening perhaps, your brightness

lasted for seconds.

Roar of that thunder is the pricking 

pain you sorted me to,

And its just the echo of grief, and truth

lies there in the unheard, veracious pain is preserved.

Storms sails on high, so as this life of uncertainty.

Rain, O'there, my love to you!

Let every drop give the meaning of love,

as you give to my life.