O poet,
When I see the sky in the middle of the grill of the Belknak at a deep night, why do you think that someone's picture is drawn in his big chest, this is not a picture of someone else's poet, it is your image
.
O poet,
Throwing out the mind, throwing everything down, and handing it to any work.
Think of me in the work, my mind is unknowingly unaware of who he thinks.
I did not have a little problem and I did not have a problem, he was a poet
The poem that sounds like your poem
.
O poet,
The mind wants to say something today.
I miss the wrong mind, forget everything in a while.
But, I forget the rules, my copy of someone's voice, inside a yellow colored envelope, written with ink writing with hand writing; I do not have a little more grin to hear and hear,
.
O poet,
I spent a long time, spent many nights.
I was cut alone alone, maybe more and more. Then and I will be waiting, waiting for that day together.
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