By Aamar Farttoosi
He knew the others, So, he threw his stones over them and turned Carrying the jubilee of the day And the years that are jogging, the virginity of the fetus. His face at a standstill by the bizarre border Bend over it and light up; Where he does not meet anyone else coming Where he does not notice the others, he turns around Carrying the blunt agony of the day Wiping out the page of the nearby sky.
