Im not ashamed of hope.
Omid was an urban
That burns it
Saying that its people are not useful
Its not worth digging.
Im not ashamed of hope.
It was dusty
Dozar Dehshi
Whatever it was.
It smelled like mom
Daddy was broken
But he hadnt been defeated yet.
Ability
The Golden Age was not this and that
It was difficult
It wasnt bread
It was still
The cash that makes a profit
The Kingdom of the Old Shira
The Jewish Wolf
Jon Arzon, Arezoo Grün
The future means tomorrows spraying
The windows of the house should be healthy
The Night of the Fathers Workers Taste
With the sound of the siren
Barbary Line, Rotten Milk
The apprehension of the bitter taste of check, brother
Pregnant goose steals eggs
From the white of its feathers
It was aggressive, but it tasted like a dashp.
In the alleyway of childhood.
Stone Eating
The sky was short
Hanging Trucks and Dying
The big toe goes to the football
From the compulsion of his love
Left-footed.
Sleep at night in sailors clothes and
In the morning, you sprinkled German shorts
Hot Poppy
Like the skin of the first girls body
The First Sin of Kissing
Eating Kowsars Little Apple
You are alive.
Do you remember?
Love Letters
A wicked and angry semi-poet
The Interpretation of the Teacher I Loved
Mr. Ghorbani
He opened the water and
Prosthetics
Thrown into the glass
His real asset was him
From the life of Made in Iran
Retirement until retirement
Release into his debt
His eyes and knots did not open
Left from his heart and tablet
Why did I cry?
Im limping for fifty tomans
Youre for dinner.
Why dont you cry?
When my hand is tied
And the opening of my eyes.
