Alley Empty Empty Alley Without any imagination My life from Darwit Bakri Hemmati with this northern yellow
is not twenty years old. Fear With a white tent and a mud of the broken jasmine so red Said We were fragmented. We chanted pieces of reproduction
slogans The man came with the laughter and suspicious laughter The man who was good and pregnant Wear from the book to the alley Bomb burst by the school ear Mr. Nourbakhsh Dirty Takbiri
The clear message of imprisonment in your bruised eye. It was Great Sadness You Wait You Wait for your wounds from your imprisonment
Dry look like a depth of the West Life more unfair than death Do you still cry on your feet? Do you still die moment by moment? They were and the blood of history was shed by anger Whatever they did. Skin, the skin, the eyes, the waiting pits, the waiting pits , "the bed, the dead bed The wounds were strangers to us My cigarette It was grudge Growing it so much as if my life is a certain right Mother passed under the book, bitter then her husband crazy and wrote poetry We were in her neighborhood on the footsteps of the police What a riot.
