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 with
wounding myself all my life, every moment is not my concern except this group, it has been a long time since I have collapsed from the house of the ruins of my world on the roof. I have fallen, there is no 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 me? 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, but very far away. Look well to see the face of pain and patience . In order to know what I am to you , more than you in the world, more tired of myself than you , see that I am tired, the pride of my stone but I broke it, 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 stick of my hand from the torment of being with you in my silence, I am neither patient nor in love, I am the embodiment of your torment Dont worry, I cant bear all 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, nothing but poetry breaking the story of my tomorrow , this song of decay, this voice, is not my voice , see that I am tired, only pride, the crutch in my hand.
