Love the Whip whip
back, still do not be afraid of it.
Grind my teeth, I do not cry
a tear.
In my ears I hear the wild resources
squealing winds, headwind.
I travel, dry, and chapped lips.
Somewhere far away Gypsies
camp reminds of its existence,
it is like a mole community
secretly emerging from their holes.
Fire brings the smell of a campfire,
wild-vibrating song vibrato.
Then I still remember
a wild frenzy, body
every inch of your body curves
oestrus, sweat running.
How many times
I am disappointed yet? The sun rises,
fall again. I named
I write the steppe in the sand,
I can see how that's about it
soon turned disappears.
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