It has been brewed overnight and the soil has faded. The wind, the new cloud cloud, has blown towards me from the mountain.
Its night, like a warm body swollen in the air, so you cant see his way if youre lost.
With the hot tension, the long desert remained dead, in its narrow grave with my burnt heart, it remained in my tired body that burns from the awe of fever! It is night. Yes, night.
