If you even take my breath between us To be united if my death takes my breath O you, your dear ceiling was all my crying. Our last crying was the end of the love game. Tone of Bedes The naked time of love with the same humble fire in the fire was burned My hands and paper and my sonnet and romantic Running from the cocoon was the key to the poetry of poetry from the bottom of the silence to the tall of our friend dear It was your birthday. It was your death. This good belief You say your absence is not the distance between us The last absence of your chickens is not the end of this calendar
