how far this long is is to go?
how brave we should that not to know
to once again to write the truth
that there’s no plastic absolute

want words to create a forest up
by simply deeds that doesn’t fut
in all that clutters wish to bow
perhaps i’m not the ivanhoe

longer than hangs my courage goes
upon a stream to have a nose
for every freshness that comes down
no measure in the river town

and so to shout till body flies
into pieces up on the skies
let every cell be opened blood
be watched through by the dreamt of god