Rice swallows your sleep in the afternoon.
Tickets for the East Protocol Hall secretly fluttered. Knowing the temporary death, he was black of tar at that moment.
As the tarmac story unfolds on the shore with the shady sky shallow , the one – soaked ticket on the street turned to dust.
All the papers chew his cruelty.
The clothes are folded and fall on the table in half of the sun.
On the other hand, there is still a quiet gak-gak sound.
Translated by Alam Mahbub.