Often,
what I write on the paper is a letter...

For a reason,
I do not look back...

It is difficult for a soul
to seek shelter in rain of despair...

Enough of walking on suicidal thoughts
or...

I still remember
why summer had died that year, and...

I still remember
how the bird of madness...

The life of poets is collapsing
within grief...

Don't let me wander
in alleys of yesterday...

Now our fate is demanding
more than being friends...

In arms of darkness, I found peace.
God is nothing, but a showpiece...

I can never forget
that month of June...

Wine of love upon your lips
when infuses...