Me begins to speak
wearing another face of transience
The words are of moment;
mingled
violence that subsequent to words, love, and calmness
Then the Wisdom swings
little as bird out of the sense of incomprehensiblness
and must not be understood's
Me notes off its present as a wind,
that's being touched by its feathers
Which is;
Killing of words is comfortable to feathers,
Another wet kiss of you just started to rain heavily,
leaves the pleasure of being wordless on the great river
blood of my killed sparrow words,
mingled into the great river as an aroma
as an end
all the colours, meant to be painted my new portrait
were spread
In the secret tiny fingers of this midnight.
Until depleted and died in complete,
who hugged me tightly was you,
the night wrapped with cold, dark and the love
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