No, I do not say my point
Not that I don't want to say
But whatever will be said
Will be said to be untouched
And until it will be able to tell him
Will remain untold
I say to you
Your only thing
As you listen to you
Repeated aspects, erosion, erosion
Your own lakhs are said in the image
Lakh-milling vocals come to the uninterrupted book
You will recognize you only
Or you will get
That he beyond you
It is everyone's point-everyone
That no one has,
Is not anywhere, never of
But being autonomous, self-immolation between yourself
It is right here and right now.
Poetry
This is the case.
Otherwise, there is a lot of rhythm
Similar thing
Hearts come from mystery
The inner burning light brings out
Does not look again, and shows everything
Somewhere in the same
Take the poet along with the rhythm