I ask to be the child of the sky

Even if it takes back the wings of my heart

Through the field, the winter is deep

Some days the wind hanging color

The cup collapsed and nobody lifted it

I'm drunk in the distance

Postural yellowing

The wheat is green in solitude

I didn't accidentally arrive in the next spring

There is a shadow in the vertical field

I want to smoke

After the Red Sorghum came home

How many or in my tenderness

Sitting in the table on the survival

My love and hate

Be afraid to bring up

The wind blew me down

Low to mud, get water

I want to be a child in the sky

as if

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