We loved the low syllables,
The men who cannot even have letters in our hearts.
We loved it without any excuses to love.
What was our Lord saying? Sometimes a bird, sometimes a flower, and sometimes a head with love. We have paid for the diets of our choices.
Our feet stayed barefoot on the path of love, our hair was filled with timeless white.
However, we were very beautiful girls.
We loved without knowing where we were wrong.
Now I think is it worth it?
It was not worth it at all (mice leave the ship when the ship sinks, sorrow) if we proceed with the logic, the rats are full of people who speak very well, write very beautiful poems and love very well. Well, is this the truth? He who knows how to love is with him, not who leaves!
There is no rule that every foot will go! Love does not go even if you are fired, but sometimes it plays the games of life in such a way that one finds yourself on a road and then it is important to go well.
When I asked when I was at school, my only fear would be loneliness. Now I say to be in the wrong heart, when my wrongs pull my right. Life is not a test; four wrongs take one right, one wrong takes a person's whole life.
Ah, whenever these despotic states of mine set sail for love, my tired heart comes and settles in my eyes, pains, it is impossible to erase and rewrite fate.
We spent our most beautiful years saying (Loneliness seeks a wife special to Lord, every living thing does not have a heart and moss wraps it up). What we have left is a letter or two of love, burnt-edged pictures and dozens of regrets.
I have met with deep notches in the love house, and I do not know who to account for what.
Everyone was at the helm, everyone was at the helm. The captain of the ship would be the only one. Human beings who did not know the power of the letter (m) were the words scattered desperately to the left and right as the alphabet of twenty-nine letters. He said, "Who are we good to be? Who knows? Who knows? Well, who is with us? Are we not girls who hold the left with their right hand?" So why is there love confusion, is there a lover, or who has the power to keep love alive?
Grandmother stayed in his time, the beautiful loving men were brave, honest, without breaking, spilling, hurting. Oh where are they now
You broke my heart, and you broke the women who said glass would sink in their feet and it would hurt. You upset the women who said if you were cold, put on your sweater, did you eat.
You made the women cry, who said that they would come to you and make you soup, and you cheated women who said that I am the only one.
Now you are here, give account to your suede in the mirror,
Hell exists for you, grams that fail to be a man.
Black letter:
Darling how are you, are you okay, i wish you well,
If you ask me, I'm fine too. My only concern is you, I think of you and miss you so much.
His arrival was like the air of a fluorescent lamp that I had been waiting for a long time,
Cool, elite and intellectual and more urban.
Different things seem mysterious to you,
Like pied, orange, magenta.
It was something like that,
Like a deep well
Slaked, shy and nailed nail.
He probably had a dimple on his cheek,
If he had called for a revolution, it would have been less effective on me.
It's been a long time that we've been written separately like vaguely noun phrases,
It snowed eight times over my mute and lipless cut,
And the seven sleepers awoke.
This is actually the realm of the intermediate world and I do not know anything,
I've heard some white verses, that's all.
Can you come again,
I do not know my love.
I have a feeling that the imam master is warning me when I do not keep the ranks properly. But I am waiting for you on a judgment day.