A good day maybe a boatman
was launched after the sea of ??memory
It was a small boat in time
but there was faith,
but there was a rare splendor in his eyes,
but there was a mystical zeal for why,
but there was faith.
A dock is just an entrail;
Winter sea is maybe the morning;
Boy ship is perhaps clear soul;
and although there is faith,
and even if there is a world flow on my forehead,
so much my face sinks into people,
I do not know anymore
I'm tired of talking so much,
if everything is said to the end.
What more noise than listening
of life, all the bustle.
So much space between my voice
and the ear that must wait.
I have nothing to say
look at everything and listen to me.
A good day maybe a boatman
was launched after the sea of ??memory
From his ship, between shouting and silence
still not known
which of the many has been his luck:
If I find life or left with death
or simply lost.
It got lost....
Only among all we can make this a better place :)