I think it's raining
You too are like a rain
On my scared ground
Bulaye go to sleep pollen pollen
Fine breeze
Comb and close
My heart,
Go through a permanent sun
Swelling of my soul
Although such rain this year
I haven't seen much
Romahsharka green light seeds
Like lazy yellows
He stumbled on the wood of the forest
There may be storms
Our own correspondent
When forecasting
This rain will not stop
Then I heard your laughter
That smile caught my fist
Like a baby bird
Whose flight is a few more days
After that he has not learned his wings yet
I remember more
About your kiss
An unadorned one
Silent as a giant
That there is silence.
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