She

Chains of world grinding,
In a corner she shivers,
Footsteps burst every now and then,
Like a hammer fall to her heart.

Under the curtains of silence,
Like ages were the years of past,
Day by day, month by month,
Volcano was on rise, each year.

She, the mirror of that is soft,
She, the symbol of that is pure,
She, the feel of that is good,
She, the notion of what is love.

She waits for the torments to end,
She waits for a hand to come,
She looks for a spark to appear,
She hopes for glimpse of that dream.

Break those chains, O dearest,
Lift that curtain, O strongest,
Find the lost self, O beautiful,
For its only us, because of you.

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