In a day,  with bright Sun,  
Shines in the painted blue sky,
I rush to the room,
pick my backpack and thermos.
I  pulled some books with, a pair of shoe,
and a pack of cigarettes and some sweets too. 

I leave, 

And an escape has planned,
Anonymous and directionless.
I ran, I escaped. 
Not a vacation, I can’t. 

Maybe in some wilderness,
Or in seclusion, I lay. I Think.
far from each, in the east. 
Where I count the leaves of trees
touch the breeze of the north,
 and inhale the bright Sun,
Shall make me alive!