You are a very beautiful poem
Then I am on this site or other always lonely
I run away from my chest tightness and from my uncomfortable days
Flee to the book, to the pen, to the scattering of words
There is no family relationship here at all, every spring flower is the daughter of March
I address everything, in a metaphorical language that is sometimes incomprehensible to many, but it does not matter, I will not satisfy all tastes
The prudent of the sign understands, analyzes between the lines and does not question
All I have is this pen, it is also a friend like you
Then it's too late, my fair lady. The years have lulled our resolve, and we have no way of making amends to time. The head is gray, the bones are bent and brittle, and nothing is alive but our sorrows. Our pain is many, and our suffering increases every day.
Things are not as you imagine, my fair lady, and my thoughts about my writing are all about things that hurt us
This bitter truth, your words make me feel guilty. As for the writings I have published here and there, they are phrases for all stages. Sometimes we love someone because of his book or poem, and he may have said it thousands of years ago, and I will send you a poem someone said 4,000 years ago. The inscription is written and the poem is the voice of a girl addressing a young man
(((Search for me until you find me))
I'm in the wilderness and finished uprooting thistles,
Now I will plant a vine.
The fire was burning inside me. I was doused with water.
Love me as you love your little lambs
And you take care of me as you take care of your flock
And look for me until you find me)))
As for departure, we are only in a convoy that is moving us forward, and I am walking with it. I do not know when I will reach the station. As long as everyone is on this journey, we will stay together.
always
I hope you are always near
always
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