The head between your hands has been cut off
My Look at the Clock
and the sad poems of Assi
And the wolf is tired of the gun and is not afraid of the gun.
To my doubts about the essence of existence
Youre drunk when youre drunk.
And longing for you and smelling
And I didnt see the depth of your catastrophe.
A vein that is destined to be blocked
And your crime, which he has committed, is before the wind.
The end of the story is always bitter
And a poet whose sentence is apostasy
Oh my goodness، my book.
Dried semen on my bed.
The Good God of Anger, Murder and Fatwa
And my cries to Yaghmas poetry
Call me to stay a cactus
Stay with me reading poetry
Next to you to Uhud with the desert
Which is our secret to dying standing
Say, "Our hadith was a hadith of blood."
Evil caused by madness
Tell me how we did not give up.
Say that we are dead and we are masters.
