Shiv Kumar Batalvi
My friend, it is my own sorrow
That has destroyed me.
It is a lie to think
That your love had the strength to do it.
I have no complaint against
Heat or drought.
My garden was destroyed
By the dews of spring.
It is not the fault
Of the black night.
The ocean was defeated
By its beloved moon.
Who is it that
A man is destroyed,
By his birth.
The sun that rises
Is certain to sink.
He lies who says
The west destroyed it.
Yes, one can be destroyed
By grieving for dead friends,
Though it is more likely the result,
Of the display of that grief.
The enemy is not the murderer,
I tell you.
Shiv was killed
By those who loved him.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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