I can not afford to hate,
even I can not afford not to avoid myself.
If only this kilometer had narrowed to inches,
if the beach Menganti can kudaki and kuturuni own,
and if the fine thread that tetiba break up the tempo is still connected with a neat ...
then maybe I'll be a little able to smile,
though never recognize what or who this and that.
I just want to live quietly,
inhale the smell of leaves and grass,
playing an old coconut shell that is no longer promising.
Not an irony like the distance 'what hearts' and 'how noisy singing',
who talk, argue and swing in this head.
I just want to calmly love gardening, cultivate love with nothing and pick the fruit of happiness without a doubt.
However, it looks like the wind is blowing in the opposite direction,
not ready to turn around, have not established themselves to preach the reality.
And it's just that neither the old town nor the young, nor is it a conversation.
I just want to live quietly,
while waiting for the wind and flowers to fly,
as well as staring at the green and blue panorama, the tree and sky of my heart.
