Sutki of my soil

I want…
When there is no other breath in my chest
Me not in the stone, nor in the colds
That in the shadow of an old tree,
Soak on a tall hill.

Where the wind blows
And the sky, every night,
Have a star for my lonely conversation.

Let my body be dirty
And become the root of the tree
Whose leaves,
Sheet my memories in the wind.

And from my soil,
Make a simple sword
That every passer -by
It looked at it
And the sound of my lonely
Wrap the streets ...

Neither a whisper nor scream
That is the silent song of Delie
That was very much liked,
And he remained very alone ...

If someone asks one day:
Where is this sound?
Say:
It is a man from the soil
Who did not want to die in the cage
And his life with nature
Part was part.

#behnammohtarami#