I have not seen your face
I have not touched your vase
I have not seen the softness of your neck
I have not seen the curves of your back
I have not seen the mound of your femininity
I have not seen your house in your city
I have not played on the grounds of your passion
I have not counted the rounds of your notion
But the entire world smells of you
And your scent is different from all I knew
Why Mehar waited on the banks of river Indus
If Sohni was not as charming as you
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