I dont know who my crazy heart is, where it is looking and who is in the house, I dont know who is the confused heart of the captive hair of Narcissus, my
dear, my eye socket is contagious , both my eyes are in the place of your feet, I am afraid of it, I am afraid of it, I am oblivious to
it, I am afraid of it, I am tired of the burden of grief, I am tired of suffering. I have never seen freedom from the grief of my hairless age, my
heart is unbearable, my hair is a mountain of sorrow, I cry
for every evening and every dawn I cry for the mountain that I flow from every sighting of that hair without luck in the garden of the world , where my flower is a thorn in the thorn of
