In the Paris subway Sunday upigal
Roghos pioneer
Top of Eiffel and you louvre whistle and blind
Or the heart of the feet of a grave stone
U with semen still like a rhetoric
Like a heart that is in a place of empty
U with semen still like a memory
That only after the death of me.
Still in that city, though around us
I miss the bird that is in the blood
The free and attractive world but my eyes are in that house
I miss a land that is like a Zandon
Youre on the train on your train and the club
After a bottle of the most exciting wine
In the beach -filled beach
Even in the Alik cinemas backyard
U with semen still like a rhetoric
Like a heart that is in a place of empty
U with semen still like a memory
Thats only after death.
When I eat Torandalosba Lurka
When I am sorry for myself.
When I smoke beside Rhine
Or the taste of the frightened kiss
When the Persian Gulf shouts
To believe that this is my own
Again, my side, again
My day, my day
