The faded and pale leaves

When fall by the feet,

On the way of my life,

On the crossroads, on the joints,

There stands my age still

Like the tree stripped.

In the cracks of crumbled road,

When the journey falters

Because of the flatten feet,

There sink my aspiration in fissures

Counting the clock beats;

When life is shortened by grey hairs,

Time signals the winter of my life.

I hate the fort

In the border of my life;

I hate the time

To be hung on the wall;

I hate my being

Fixed in the pendulum,

For I love to flow unfettered.

I have seen the lives

That are doomed to die,

Flee with death in eye,

Stride with death in steps.

The Death has escorted

The quest for insecure safety.

I hate to live the life

Derided by the defiance of death.

I hate to breathe my last

With the Carcasses of dreams.