If our century had a poet, the air would have been better, the thorn was no less than the flower, it would have been much more flowery,
our century would have been a poet, if it had a pigeon with a pigeon, again with the slogan of flight, woe to us who thought that love should be killed in such a century where knowledge reigns, throwing love away from the scene is madness, it is helplessness , it is shame, it is
the century, it is not the century of fire, the century is a fresh air, it is necessary to wash the minds. We are lost, if it is necessary to search among ourselves , dear ones, we must travel from black to white,
we are happy that today is a different color, not the color of yesterday, it has not changed until night
, they said to learn a thousand points from this point.
