Art Works: The beauty that incinerate

The leaves fall dancing in his four seasons: autumn comes, comes the summer, winter sings spring attached to the Days pass, and the earth the sun wakes up crying in the east and west surf any resurrecting the dumb forest ecology sleepwalkers set off your look from Perishable hole pigeons flapping of great tours leaving shadows marked in letters of white clouds throwing love poems Mountains howling scream of pain from his aberrant nature extinction imploring God for rain like no feat They die alone men are rodents, kept in filthy and miserable that corrode his soul damned to hell in the dark depth of burial and so sings Pablo Neruda "can cut the flowers, but they can not cut the spring" For Sorgalim Narud