First I weave silence
I choose the tone for the same
Taunt: Want the fabric strong
Where to get it?
But there is someone who will change it,
Who will bore it in juices and only then he will blossom
I pick up a thick wire
I am tied to death
But with the help of someone and this wire
I can overcome from time
Then reform,
But are the colors of my choice?
Do I also intend to my verses?
I find that my mind is a slim,
From here to there, from there here
Hand does my work
The map emerges someone else
This is how weaves the trap of silence
And there is something in me that I get surrounded by him
Believe it, I am not that
Because when I recognize
I find myself outside that trap
Then there is some bound that I am not but mine
For which again
I weave another silence
