I'm fine, sir, where are your letters?
I'm waiting for you as always
Your smile is like a cloud that waters the garden of the heart
How didn't you come this spring? Where are your lips?
My toffee knows it's dry
My fingers are wandering where your eyelashes are tonight
I drew a hundred and forty for you, my last breath
My soul has no strength. Where are your hands?
You and I are still waiting for me to come back from exile
I'm trying to understand where your eyes are, dear
I don't complain about you, my picture companion
How could you not ask me where your poems are?
...