Like those who cross the banks of the wind
Carrying the hissing of wheat fields
The longing brings them back to the poem's saliva
A hymn laced with heart palpitations
He muttered to the morning star before sunrise
And I said why don't you come with the cloud of dusk
I'd like to write my song on the shoulder of the sunset
It's the color of my blood
And the sky is an oasis of anemones
It extends its fragrance to the breeze
Fragrant with flower water drops of dew
And at the end of the night
Perched on the petals of a rose embraced by passion
stealthily
As you came the first time
And an invasion
Like legions of memory
self-distraction
And in the depths of the universe, you will distribute me
And search for myself
And ask about me
-
when you come
-
Now my hands are touching the face of the fields
My feelings sway through its waves
Clouds of nostalgia dangle over my eyes
Wash away the sunken haze from my eyes
To see longing, the country of longing
And I leave with longing and wind
We degenerate with pleasure and longing flowing
on the edges of his whisper
I sang it a long time ago
Fields hiss
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