O my most intimate sorrow, O you who remember the sunrise and the heat , you are pale, the flowers under the yellow rain of leaves , you are broken anemones, you are the fragrance of my breast, you are the sacrifice of your kindness, it is difficult for you to tell a story about you, you are like a spring drizzle, the bodies of the birds are overflowing from you, the air is in the will, a cloud for the garden, my cries are left from you, this sound breaks when my hands read you , the cloud opens in the eyes of the sun, the first anemone Love, the heart of the swamp, your hand was a song warmer than the air of the desert, the color of the wheat hills with a good voice, Abra, you are a
broken anemone, you are in the fragrance of my chest, you sacrifice your kindness, it is difficult to tell a story about you, you are like a spring drizzle, the bodies of the birds are filled with you, the air is a cloud for the garden, my cries are left from you, this is my voice.
