The one you see rises in the east
It sinks in the west
The one you see comes with the fog
He drowns in the dark base
Sun
In all seagrass
I just want to catch a shadow
Present
Untouchable
That's close
Not felt
So I kept going
How to take you walking in the dark
Black
I never suspected
Why is my body capable of reflecting shadows
Even in this life
I guess
If everything
Never more than the shadow itself
Blank
Falling flowers in the garden
Leave the fragrant fragrance that blew in the wind
All that remains is a broken stalk
Rotting leaf
Cries of bees
And giggling caterpillars that look full
Perish
Once again I invite you to sit on that park bench
Enjoy a cup of coffee
Which is curated from my fingers
Again, I told you to come
But I hope
You alone
Never again do you bring your thirsty friends
A bunch of wind
And the ants
I do not like them
When we talk again about the farthest thing
They never want to know
Why do not we just spend a cup of our coffee
One by one ant ants were marching
Bringing a sweet taste from the edge of the cup to the hole that is difficult to kuteriakan:
Return it to the side of my cup
It has not stopped yet
Apparently the scent of the breeze wants to taste it too;
Extending her hole in the scent that tempts her throat gland
Satisfied, then far running
That's why I do not like you bringing your friends here
When I talked to you in the garden
When what we are talking about is still as warm as a cup of coffee
Slowly lost land-what I need for you.
There
Sing the owl on a quiet night
On the roof of our house
Dark dark at night
Smile of heart in daydreams
I do not want to hear you sing anymore
It only adds to the silence of a night
Fly
Probably because the dark is so tense
Until a mouse runs fast with bones in his mouth
It was as if a cat were a policeman stalking his movements
The one slipped between the bushes
One is watching from behind the wall
Up to a battle
Cats die from rats swallowing toxins in their bodies
All died of traps
I'm beginning to understand why your singing is so sweet in a quiet night
Because the moon is mute
And the star of khusyu
There is only a bell in the middle of the night
Imaji is lonely in the middle of a dream
That's all I can hear
Friend talk entertainer lara
I began to know the meaning of a singing
If my hope reaches up to the seventh sky
I want to be completely naked in syahdu
Wrapped with a feather of angel wings loose from his back
Do not ask me who he is who I am
Who he is who fingers me
Who he was that I led to the garden gate
I just want to go there
maybe an excursion
or just spend the night behind the clouds and the universe
nothing more,
that I wanted to take her there
My angel, which I carried from the earth
After the night
Maybe fog
Maybe cold
Or the wind
But I want to
The dark drama before night passes
Before the sun rises
After the poem on the eastern horizon staged
Bright
Hi: greet the moon on the star
How fascinated the star was to him
Will you dance to spend the night with me ?, greet the moon
How glad the star heard it
How falling in love with that star in the moon
They dance in the dark room
As if nothing else remained when love raged
Past our thirsty thirst
Greet our dull skin to the touch
Is it possible in the unconscious when we say: we are in love
Time on the dark floor of the sky
The sky became bright
The tired moon was weary
Looks pale in the bright sky
How unbelievable he was to see the star falling to the bottom of the ocean
He cried, cried flooding the land
When we are fully aware of a time
When time is so powerful over everything
Why do not we just say:
That we are conscious in love
Dreams are only a night illusion
who was swept away from a valley
toward the lowlands
if we like to fall in the undercurrent
means we are so tired
lose
Like a wind
Therefore the valley is so cool
We know the flower is scented
Leaves sway
Kite flying fly
Enough thank you
on him who never revealed his form
maybe we dare say
he never existed
But all felt it
that you see dark
That's night
Come after dusk from the point of view
Solar sank behind the ocean
The sky is no longer blue
Maybe black
Or gray
Maybe dark
And a mosquito net
Seagrass we meet a long story of blur that is gray
Dream.
cumulative words, one marching one into a sentence that stands upright walking along with time, to a brief twilight-perhaps a little light twilight-that will surely be wrapped in black,