From Tashkent to Cordova


In remains of this place you often come
To see what was once yours, to witness
Your old self, when mirrors weren’t invented
There you remained for years in conversations
As they all survived on tales of literature and art
Where once the civilization remained and you
Now only the marble and words painted in black
Hidden in crevices of time, underneath these trees
Only your companion the rain, to grieve
As it carried you from places far, for perfection
You were with me in all my travels and adventure
Ingredients of life wrapped up in my existence!

Kashkin

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