crossing the Night

on the dusty books, you want to freeze time. because the sliver of memory, the second is to continue publishing. like poetry, keep track

so lyrical, so gentle, whispering wind in the dream. similar light, say hello to sadness, dribbles at the top awful. hours shivering in the clink

night getting thicker. love makes it increasingly foolish. and love the wild. ah, memories stunned! increasingly do not you know

I am the Water

I am the water that flows from upstream to downstream. Could Cry? Bring scraps of human wasteinto the mouth of the wound, to the ocean groan all difficult to draw any

I am the water, mine water, run down from the sky and memories. You remember the tears. Inmemory of love. Garden of Light

I am the water on which the rover boats, from small rush of the rivers cut through your city appearswith a message bringing the message of the mountain to the ocean water to the ocean waves

I am the quintessence of the nature of the mountains to bring water, dissolve the salt of life. For you. For you. I love presenting

I am the water. I am running water in your body. Flowing from the eyes

As the love flowing. As the love flows to the mouth of his love. I am the water. Cry!

I was greeted bird of every morning

My wings are too cute to pack away into the sky secret. strange silence. countless lonelier

I sing too harsh too nasal tell that crumb love at the hands of people who mutually suspicious. I knocked secret

small beak knocked me your empty walls. secret desires. fate line. Love is immortal, I spellrepeatedly

I descend from branch to branch, autumn leaves translate, translate writhing maggots in my beak, translate dew-kissed by the sun in the morning

you hear the chirping my poetry, in the yard, the tree withered by the drought, my sweet chirpingsounds, is crying

My wings are tired I ask itself the storm hit, the earth suffers, the world that made ​​me helplessdrunk

love you

: Kunthi Hastorini


I give meaning to life,

with a sincere heart of love,

unending gratitude expressions



I give meaning to life,

full-service, age by age may not wasted,

love for God



because love

is a life of worship,

thankful for a gift



In love, we pray

In the Morning Day

Fog greeted the streets. Fog still waiting for the light, which will be invited. Joint smiling sun.

In the chill air, the dew mendaras poems memory, up to the light warm

Moon at the top of the hill. Slow hide. Say good morning to the sun

The streets still leaves a light, which does not fall asleep during the night. Good morning. Sleepsoon, said the sun

in quiet there that ask you to read

night through and through with the light of the moon, and this depressed? through and throughwith light eyes

what anxiety of nothingness? no. not only the silence of the side boundary. Low. extremely quiet

on the quiet. some ask you to read. read! read! and you will understand: Self

Tired of letters and Silence of Poet

I looked tired letters,


let the letters fall asleep in the break,


let the weary quiet heat in a deep


homeless poets in the poem,


dwell in the quiet


in the quiet


poet to read the meaning of


confidential self-






in the quiet


he gives the meaning of love


feel the love,


conservation and real truth