Even If A Poet Writes

God Has Pity On Kindergarten Children

Behind All This, Some Great Happiness Is Hiding.

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.

I Wanted To Be Calm, Like A Mound With All Its Cities Destroyed, And Tranquil, Like A Full Cemetery.

The Soul Inside Me Is The Last Foreign Language I'm Learning.