Sharon and Shirin met again, to discuss stories and married men. To discuss love of many nights, and centuries of common plight.
I am the universe in my own right. I am multitudes, the waters of the flood. I am restless, a huntsman’s bow. I fear to die and not to know this all.
He says tomorrow, tomorrow is the best. In five thousand years, one hardly finds rest. He says le’at le’at, what’s your haste? My time is precious and yours is just waste.
Tell me, tell me – Do I deserve to die? Did I hurt you? Did I make you cry? Tell me, tell me – Would you curse my name? You tried little, too much I cared.