My house

Tonight the wind blows very hotly

Tonight will not sleep on the pavement.

Everyone gets up, I too get up, you too get up, you also get up,

A window will open on this wall.

This land was still intent on swallowing

When we removed the feet from the broken branches.

There is no news to these houses or to the machinists of those days which we spent in caves

Hands are getting tired in the mold, so how did we refine new maps after the map.

The tiredness of hard work carried in his veins,

Took the picture of the same pain in his closed eyes.

The day melts in the same way but till now the

Night knocks in the eyes carrying dark arrows.