Al Conti - Dunyazad

Because I cannot sleep I make music at night. I am troubled by the one whose face e has the color of spring flowers. I have neither sleep nor patience, neither a god reputation nor disgrace. A thousand robes of wisdom are gone. All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away. The heart and the mind are left angry with each other. The starts and the moon are envious of each other. Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter. The moon says, “How long will I remain susp