Ghazal
thorns
The desire of the flowers, the nests made of thorns, are destroyed
These people cross our paths daily to burnour hearts
When the flowers dry, the fragrance is gone, now they are looking for the fragrance
The flowers are not attached to the branches, but the flowers are attached to the branches.
Bad hearts don't value the heart and relationships deteriorate
Those who used to listen to us, today they listen to foreigners
