Moon (Poetry)
Ocean stayed at all, the moon grows,
only then I will go there,
Swearing on the banks of the ocean,
The moon rose,
Do not appear in its extinguished fading moonlight
They are burning red bunches,
Neither you are,
may be a conscious, I am not a meaded,
At the turn, which is the cool of the river, water is,
Inside the turn,
there is a furnace of the red burns in the arms.
Do not remember,
I am a calendar of any past year,
A backed date, which comes every year,
Of which only should the moon sign be informed,
none fierced, Inverted black circle,
Just like a special occasion,
A dark night of absence,
The tide will be blown in the dark,
The agony will wake up,
Don't know what to go to which light faded,
soaks up stay a little Swear,
Then I should go there and grow...