Human Abra Sayyam Adama What a Refugee All of them like travelers in the half -way closed closed, Grion Everywhere winter color Wishing you a bird All wounded, all of the wounded Netflies Blood Closed One side of Broken Crying In the alleys with wounded and closed foot Gold Golden House Veyron Gardens Gardens like Quirin Barons thirsty rainfall Fayyard is not fed up Spring I am here to Here I am his kind hand my hand -held hand
The poetry of the father is written for the little girl where she lives and has no political intent
