Because no one can forget how it would be nice if, for each sea ahead, there was a river, for us.
And someone - a father, a love, someone - able to join hands and find that river
- imagine, invent it - and its current posarci, with the lightness of a word, goodbye.
This, indeed, would be wonderful. It would be sweet, life, any life.
And things would not hurt, but came up with the flow, we could first touch and then touch and be touched until the end. Get hurt, too. Die. It does not matter. But everything would finally human. Suffice
the imagination of someone - a father, a love, somebody.
He could invent a way, here in the midst of this silence, in this land that does not want to talk.
Road gracious, and beautiful. A road from there to the sea.
And someone - a father, a love, someone - able to join hands and find that river
- imagine, invent it - and its current posarci, with the lightness of a word, goodbye.
This, indeed, would be wonderful. It would be sweet, life, any life.
And things would not hurt, but came up with the flow, we could first touch and then touch and be touched until the end. Get hurt, too. Die. It does not matter. But everything would finally human. Suffice
the imagination of someone - a father, a love, somebody.
He could invent a way, here in the midst of this silence, in this land that does not want to talk.
Road gracious, and beautiful. A road from there to the sea.
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