If the hand is no longer able to write,
let the heart translate his own language.
If the night is no longer quiet,
let my mind meditate himself
This quiet,
didn’t make me tired making imagine of you
when boisterous winds from the east
interrupting drawings
Your love made me strong again,
when I fell from wound of love
when I no longer believe love
when I began to hate love
don’t waste my love, please
hmm …,
who am I?
Only a small bug wish to get a rose from the palace
where the knights of bug surround you
Just surrender,
wish miracles approached
biting with you in true love
Ruang Pena 