Dear My Friends
Don't tell me, which truth exceeds Dew on a cliff of age, because clear dew, a word that measures love, like my poetry drops in your forehead full of dust,
Don't ask, the pleasure that exceeds the pleasure of kissing your lips, because our lips, only a fraction of the time, sink in,
Don't ask, Sincere in my love, my eyes sparkle like a drizzle, taper on the leaves, in a fallen, painful leaf...
What should I give to love, while I'm not perfect enough to portray you, stored in the space of imagination,
My hands are hanging under the silent branches, looking up hoping there is a drop of hope, your love will come back to me.. but...
Even the ocean is not enough, to describe the map of your face behind the rainbow's cold, let it be, let it be,,
My poem will continue to flow from the corner of the eye and the prayer is painful, while holding a smile on the face of the grass, quiet and waiting...
THANK YOU