Who Is The Girl? Poem by Ayatullah Nurjati

Beauty that comes sporadically

Every beat of poetry that closes is sadistic

The puff of victory smoke reflects sadly

The obsessive dim distortion is like the cup of opium

A piece of paper for solace, - laughing out loud

Window glass often turns into blood gold

The gossip on the wide terrace - bad

The thugs of the night make friends with a dull pen

A man with a salt-scented scallop - revealed cramps

The writings that dance along with the night cycle

The girl who droops spoiled like a dim sky

A dream of absolute beauty snatched away by a gray desire

Being resounded by a pretty girl wrapped in a pink dress

The poor man at this time can only surrender to the pounding of time that is lazy to beat

And who is that girl….?