Virgin Love ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

full-moon-night-_2Night is full moon today. I am walking alone with the moon. She looks beautiful and angelic today. Last week she was dank in the dark. I was walking on the street with her. She was regretful to me that I cannot see her face in the dark. Last week the beauty was regretful for her cloudy existence.

The night was dull and humid because of her turbid disappearance. She was repentant and I was cheery in last week of night. My face was graceful to hear that she loves me. It was prideful in spite of dizziness. A Parrot was prancing in my heart in last week. The talkative little bird was dancing, flying, and jiggling to hear that she loves me and promised to be loved me.

Promise is virgin when she promised for love. Last week you were virgin despite your nocturnal habit. I was on the street with a flute and twittering melodious tune. The busy avenue was strange to hear the tweet. A street singer joined with me. His melodious violin was luscious. Our melody of love was eternal on that shaded night.

Last week was memorable to me for promised love. Promise is the twin daughter of starry sky. Dark is vanished into the full moon night when it is starts to shining. Night is shiny today. Everything on the street is glowing, chirping and dancing with the flooded waves of moonlight. The waves are breathing in all over the avenue and silently flickering everywhere. It is flighty today. Shiny waves are bubbling on the traffic sergeant’s hat and flickering on the peddlers faces. Everything is bubbling, shining and singing except me.


Love is a dual devil. Today he twitters the melody that love is no more existed when promise is no more to be virgin.


Last week you were repentant to me and this week I am. Today’s night is less regret for moonlight. There is no sign of regrets in people’s face. They are happily walking, running and circulating on the street and enjoying your beauty in moonlight. Everything is cherished and crimson by the yellow fevered moon, only but me.

My heart is pounding in great regret, because, the promise you have made is vanished forever in the starry sky. It is just a distance of one week and it is perhaps a distance from the last darkness to today’s brightness. Everything is getting change in such a littoral duration of time. The promised love was virgin in last night and today she is lying on the avenue. The beauty is lying on the avenue and hacked to the death after the bloodshed!

full-moon-night-_3Night is crimson with waves of light and reddish blood crimsoned my hands. The bloody fool night is shimmering like a virgin in moonlight and I am shimmering in regrets by holding a blinking knife in my hand. The knife is blinking in the waves of blood. I am standing on the middle of the avenue, where the sharp knife scratches your angelic face.

My dear, I am on the middle of you and encircled by the bemused people. Their face is growing furious to beaten me for this cruel transgression. My hands have a knife. The knife is the mystic killer of promised love. You were wishful and promised to love me in spite of my elvish desire. Your wishful promise is no longer existed today.

Moon light night is not aware that what was happened between you and me. The traffic sergeant and the furious people never to be knew that what was happening between us. The reason is virgin and unknown to them and it will better to be unknown.

Last-week was florescent to me. I was teetering with a street singer. We were teetering and twittering the beauty of promised love but my sharp knife sing the opposite today. The melody is not romantic as it was in the last week of dark. My bloodstained knife is praising the melody of hateful lover. Only you know my darling what I ought to mean by this. Love is a dual devil. Today he twitters the melody that love is no more existed when promise is no more to be virgin.

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