The grass in my garden, even amid the fog grows, and the tree gives the delicious fruit, despite the envy and hatred of neighbor, which, alas, are accustomed. They say the man is in the likeness of God, this divine punishment nho of this brotherhood. Yet the blazing sun is reborn, and to him the birds sing in the morning, to make a new day of awakening, where chasing life. Thanks benign moon that night enlighten the heart, while heavy and slow ever pass the hours. I am here, always troubled soul sleeper, distracted, uprooted from the world mean and cruel, that refusal. World that youre dumb, but your poison coli, and to prevent the flight circles in which I run at night, in the dream that I like, most of the day true, that from where I was and where I go back happily.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 19:40:31 +0000