To tell me, the poem has not been left in the mud of my life and hundreds of words have remained in my heart, the voice that was the balm of screaming, I put the wound in front of the great wound of my heart, I am ashamed
of the hands of my loved ones, what can I say, there is no herd, if there is a herd, there is no patience anymore, I am busy wounding myself all my life,
every moment is not my concern except this group
, it has been a long time since the house of the ruins of my world has collapsed on the roof. I am not a swallow in the longing to meet you, I am the most displaced, even though it is not far from your home, in
front of you, who am I? A captive with a solitary face that is dead in the dust of the mirror,
what am I for you? The lonely mountain of endurance between us is the bridge of torment, I am tired, the foundation
of the bridge that is as close as me, to me, but far away, look well to see the face of pain and patience
, I wish you knew What am I for you , more than you in the world, more tired of myself than you
, see that I am tired, my pride is stone, but I am broken, I wish you read from the cane of my hand or that I broke from my back, you read
so that you know that I am tired of myself more than you , see that I am tired, the only pride of the cane of my hand
from the torment of being with you in my silence, I am not patient nor in love, I am the embodiment of your torment,
you are completely careless, I have all the endurance Your pain, you didnt understand what pain made my tired knee fold
under the burden of being with you, a half-hearted column that is not called life, June reaches my lips, it
is nothing but the poem of breaking the story of my tomorrow , this song of decay, this voice, is not my voice
, see that I am tired, the only pride of my crutch.
