My Best Possessions With Their Lost

My best possessions with their lost,
There is a memory of a stopped heart, as much as anyone else!

Childhood is a posture,
The youth that rots the best,
Mother is like milk,
The night can't sleep because of its lack,
Even though the light is out,
I leave myself,
In the cult of the goddess, every mother...

Even if we reduce the fever of the liver to the ground,
It always burns in our orphanage garden,
Motif cheesecloths say death is an illusion,
Mother earth has innumerable hearts,
If we do not count the shrouds instead of wedding gowns,
I'm in anyway, to fix it
As long as she doesn't see me too, child gods!

It's a memory, every grain of sand in the damn desert,
How cruel is his being in my child's body,
Prayer to God is a sign,
The simple body dedicated to the scent of the mother,
Like the price paid, at sunrise,
It is also endorsed with avala...

She's losing her innocence,
Teasing with the bitter soul,
Between my youth and my childhood,
There is death!

It did not fit into existence,
What is it that my mother didn't say?

Don't mind, stay there, I'm not waiting anymore,
In the upper line, fold the other, the negative verb suffix,
Come on, play with me, I blinked, mom!