The dream is an ancient and forgotten truth
Which no one can check
Now strangeness sings like sea and worry
The East is west of the West
Fake movement is the fastest one
Now sing wisdom and the birds of my neglected sickness
A flower between ashes and fragrance
Those who refuse to live through love
And lovers who turn back time
A garden whose scents the ground doesn't recognize
And a ground which stays loyal to death
Because this world isn't the Sun's only concern
But one day
Where the heart was, there'll be sun
And there won't be such words in the human language
Which the song will disown
Everyone will write poetry
The truth will be present in all words
On the places where the song is the prettiest
The one who sang first will step back
Leaving the song to others
I accept the great thought of the future poets:
An unhappy man can't be a poet
I accept the judgement of the crowd which started to sing:
He who doesn't listen to the song, shall listen to the storm
But:
Will freedom be able to sing
Like slaves sang of it?
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