For the impatience of days full of regret and sighs
For insomnia, the eyes are staring at the road
For the weight of the rubble of the narrow grief of the evening
For the sadness of the rain in the night of the moons sunset
For me, the balm for my wound became a song and a song.
The fever of writing has made a fresh start
I want them to know my story.
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
O you who have submitted to the volume of the cage of the past
Let the Beauty Be Felt in the Text of the Stories
It can be inspired by a poem and it can be a role on the canvas.
May it be the melodies of the instrument and the breath of the songs.
For me, the balm for my wound became a song and a song.
The fever of writing has made a fresh start
I want them to know my story.
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
The story of the autumn sunset that was filled with stars
