The Knot Of The Brunch Cut In The Summer

The knot of the branch cut in the summer,
Now spring waits like winter,
The red lip of the one who seems to love,
The cheek he kissed is like a tooth.

Sending roses is the greeting of the self,
A smile counts as charity,
The rose waving of the friendly hand,
His silence is like a stone in dreams..

If this world were left to Karun,
Would the enemy remain if everyone knew the truth,
If his safe and cubes were filled with gold,
It is empty to the ambitious gaze.

Those who do not frighten the caravan,
Those who stretch themselves hang on the rope,
Those who live their lives with their consciences buried,
It's like a human-looking carrion.

Eating a thorn from a rose is a pleasure to a nightingale,
Abandoning aside, fidelity is increasing,
To true lovers suffer, suffering,
It has been considered pleasant since the complaint.

The root does not die, although the foot travels on its surface,
No point value, even if it's big,
Even if the colorblind people are sober,
It is like a discovery in fair scales.

If he knocks down a pine every day, heedless,
Divided integrity dispersed public,
Who reads the world from behind,
That's why their backs are like breasts.

What a strange manifestation, what a strange life,
Painful life in the hands of the corrupt delegation,
You've seen these too Synthesis alas,
Soul-crushing feet are like heads.