The jungles of words

   I am not able to call the mouth, 
   You can still try your luck, 
   if you can bear mute, 
   you do not get lost hermit in the hall. 
   I have a bucket inside 
   forest, devoid of bees to collect. 
   It has a melting so long 
   until the frost to find again 
   of this country. 

   I never lost my 
   it is crazy to think of youth. 
   I'll show the world more and more language. 
   Still, I'm dumb, cry inside me 
   solidified. My words in the jungles of the sentences, 
   they sometimes echo compose songs in the world. 
   Position of the morning star on my forehead, 
   it illuminates the darkest day, 
   the words and the light inside of me chords rhymes. 
   I'll hit schlager drumsticks, 
   or the dance of tarantulas in the dark under the bridge. 
   Open wide your door that June may 
   Cheesy step inside, it is now flooded 
   the end of May, and rhythmic foot 
   can get wet in the rain.