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There's no door in the empty cell – how many monks enter every day. The old rain sound lies on the floor; suddenly a deer comes from the burning tablets. I ask him – where is your way? He looks at the grass, he doesn't answer. In the middle of the square, the wind goes around – which is full, and also one day, it has to be zero. I've touched my heart – there's a Bihar getting quieter. %1 exameters
There's no door in the empty cell – how many monks enter every day. The old rain sound lies on the floor; suddenly a deer comes from the burning tablets. I ask him – where is your way? He looks at the grass, he doesn't answer. In the middle of the square, the wind goes around – which is full, and also one day, it has to be zero. I've touched my heart – there's a Bihar getting quieter. %1 exameters
