The little birds say flight is sacred,
For the day rises and falls like the heart
And the heart rises and falls like the sea,
Many fly from the heart that resides merrily.
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A map of the world unfurls like a scroll,
Forwards they march into the landscape
That scatters with its levers and bows,
Its bowels and valleys of gold,
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A new tree tramples on your knee,
A reality has surpassed my sentence;
With electric glow the punishment
Agrees with the greatest number.
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The weeping sounds empty wallets one day,
Opening an ossified mind, a solid sacred river.
The weeping has been heard before time,
A selfish colour of the deceiver.
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A mirror needs a wall to be concrete,
The despicable monsters lurk
And crawl with cowardice so cruel.
A mirror must be silver to stay up
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The male responding to the female
Is a polite plate for the food of famine,
Families are devices from this good.
The male is replying to his maid,
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I have truth inside my sleepy soul,
Satiated and satisfied by my telling;
This soul of mine reacts to my friend,
His fierce force drums my heart
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This heart bleeds due to love,
This love enters the folds of the Universe,
And my heart has served its purpose.
Then death collects its sayings,
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To share my troubles, my disease expires
As the ashes swallow their fibre and fight;
The music of giving yourself lets the death
Be replayed, the emperor of the souls is
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One ape is applied to the masses,
Simple seasons twirl around the masses,
And the tasks of a matter are complete.
...