Oh you remember the sad night of the desert The smell of the rainy night and the darkened desert always close and always away from this The best and the first and last hand I shout with a closed lip, the wet cheek with my death is not a man of your man I remember every hand My blood I read any line of good line I shout with a closed lip, the wet cheek with my death is not a man
after you nothing in the world of sight Nobodys words, no one is heard for me I have no time. Wish Every cloud after you, empty and blessed Smell our house, the pleasant air of your words smell of soul, your smell, resonance I died from you and my poetry became eternal Whatever Dear Birthday and Bad Death Wet with my death is not a mans memory
