Broken pigeon is my soul,
Unused not saved from devil,
Magic sticks from stars are high,
But I complete with the broken pigeon,
...
The moon asked to golden book,
Don't follow me in the afternoon,
At that time i am sleeping,
You were bold and italic writing,
...
No one imagine,
I have imagination of tree on earth,
And whose shadow is an art,
Grown the tree,
...
Remembring the past,
I created a lazy magic,
That can see the time watch,
The time of present, past and future,
...
Poetry is an art,
Before you critic,
It dissolves like solvent,
In our eyes we don't see,
...
What is a trick?
Is it an activity? ,
Or is an imaginable machine,
Suppose we draw a line or circle,
...
Smelling the same,
Before the human cell,
Pluck or don't pluck,
It is the natural game,
...
In the kitchen house,
A sound of vegetables,
Whose leg and arm are jumping?
Making a noise of freedom,
...