three little  lines of desperate scribe...

entering the forest i feel
like this hour will turning
in pristine equanimity feeling
the beaty of blooming bear's garlic enchants..
two girls walking here , we say eachother couple of words
and they call me sister! inside myself i fall in Ah
but however i long to speack
they caanot know of my sorrow..

***

O, Ljenja
I long for your embrace
i long for your shoulder
i need you bring me my made from bone тянитолкай
but your soul hush
it grown delicate with with diverse satities
delicate? i want to hope so,
cos Oh, on phon you say me of some suitabilities and reasonabilities
of our encounter

***

O fan of white cotton t-shirt
dust drifts over the smoking room
yet yesterday you meant
to be young man in the black
wear black, thinking black,Oye-aie-ia!