References to the summer,
A line of abstract words,
Constituting a memory without faces.
Long walks, toward the abyss of the night,
12 o'clock, in the mountain, by the sea, through the very kisses amid late not
es,
A restless soul, awakened, alert, a prey to a tiger.
Leave the summer to its own grave.
My elegy would be written above your eyes.

Your poems are brilliant

Indeed I like this one, and it's a dedication to"Ariel," whenever I write, I always think aboutthis poem