Yes, I will melt in love with you like the holidays in my country, without delay or postponed words, because love does not know faded songs or fake looks. It must be a beginning, a rebirth and a sound that refreshes sunken souls, separates the marble heart and strikes the rock until the unforgettable hope lights up.

My knee is heavier than rust, this is no longer a secret, I am a very frozen old fighter. I am not happy, but I know that I am something special, because I am neither iron nor cruel, breezy nor whispering, I am really something very unknown. I can't catch up the sky's eyes and fish tales I can't figure out. My forehead clings to the ground with joy which beats me with strange moments and strange signs, surpassing me with all strength to tell you that fish has a dream and prayers. How embarrassed me this lack. I am ready for what I feel, just give me enough opportunity because I am flooded with apologies and appeals.

Oh, Cedar, how many aspirants loved you and the immortal Gilgamesh knew how to write you a poem. I am from the distant cities, where the sun is without robe and no eyes, only a story of waiting and something of an ancient fragrant. I am an old traveler, I learned the trip by accident. I also tell you that I am a small sailor and inherited the sea song from my grandparents. The hard wave I will know its desire. I will know it, and I will keep a little silent, so I may remember something. Yes, I will wait as a cedar tree overflows with returnees.

Although they have always said that my lands are a marginal creature and a ghostly thing with no rights, it is strange that I see their photos every time and my days are madly filled with news about them. At breakfast, at launch, at dinner, and when I went to sleep, there are pictures of them, but you should know that their photos gave my life meaning because they always said that I am something extra and I shouldn't see my face in the mirror but they indicate my presence even with hate style, so I would like to thank them for their hatefulness because the world remembered that there was something that could be forgotten living with the pain under the sand of this eastern lands where all world wars played. I'm not a new legend, but this world has smashed my face and forgotten all its hateful plays on my back.

Here, I am from the history of the deaf rock feeding on every possible cruelty. Here, I am waiting you without tears to see shining and tale. Let it come, an unforgettable time, let it come. Love has a memory that does not know absence or death. Here, I am learning messages without sound, here I am learning the desire of things. I knew that waiting for you is a postponed life, and that the face of the water is a mirror of all truth. I will be pure with full force, yes, I will be so freely with freedom. Wait for you something happy.

I am not very good at telling stories; I mean the beginnings and whatever you wish. I am never good to be a love or a butterfly, I am just a tear on the road. When the sun hears my chants, it will stain the streets with yellow tears, and when I love you violently, I will fade away like the summer nights. It's me, with all the power, with all the violence, but don't expect that I'm going to tell stories because I'm just a whisper and a tear on the road.

I am a sunny man, I don't know mystery, and I don't need to sit on the hill to be a flag. Very simply, I like that I can count my fingers, and I like that I am very forgotten and that I am very invisible, like the stories of my grandmother. If you know how much we have hidden in the secrets of our land, and how many strange lines amber streaks on my cheeks. Just if you knew, then all those strange stories would reach your heart before dawn and before any sleepy kiss. We are warm farmers rocking like Autumn leaves falling over the dewy grass with love. Yes, we are forgotten farmers who love to drown in the cracks of this earth as an eternal story.