Love on the anvil

Yet I feel it in my mouth tamarins
the acidity. My path is random
somewhere in the depths of the world's monitors.
I'm free as the wind in your lap
mature oat hull, and I laugh below
moon rounded sky.
Do not worry about me, man,
I write a story of your own life.
I can hear in your ear at the time of strollers
rusting increasing concentration creaking.

Who dares to grasp the hand
a woman grows older, who cooked
I once intoxicating
miracle flower tea?
My legs restless desire yet
time to turn to the road,
which leads to the northeast.
I will make your trip here
with you tomorrow.
I can still remember what it
tastes like a kiss of love
from the lips of another human being?

The time from the beginning to the end,
I love the world tremendously.
The time to submit to the
 blacksmith to forge and non-ferrous
blacksmith's anvil, make me
once again intact human.