Good and Nazanin my soul my last Tile I dont see your eyes my eyes Dont see your eyes in your dear rose Your body though my bitter with my kind hand I put all the kernels in the cold air of the other house. The spicy wave of blue good companion and my late soul is my last Tile I was dying to die. I do not see your eyes O you in the clean marble of your eyes O you, your air to the scent of the rain, if you are a broken garden. Be without you here and only come on I am thirsty for your thirsty night
Tile be your death sitting mirror but no longer you are me and you are in the miracle a hijab of love roses but I am a good blue wave How bitter I am with my kind hand
If you scream broken garden My dew is not cold on my face Come on this last tail. My voice is my voice I am your sick come to me Youre here and only you can come.
