Laughter

Was your laughter bread? my love, or was it water or fresh air? that gave me being like the scent of jasmine genuine from the bottom of the heart your laughter, without the mask of laughter. – And the mask of laughter! Like fireworks on command that plant the mask of celebration over the marks of fists, on the sad face of the city. The shameful false celebrations in the shadow of armed men from 9 o'clock to 10 o'clock by order! – Your laughter is fresh air loud peals from the bottom of the heart. My sweet jasmine, O my sweet, my sweet do not forget your beautiful laughter. From 9 to 10 will pass. I sweep the city's gutters I plant lovely wild roses in the lane tall, real pines a clean pool with white swans and ducks in the middle of the pool, I set a fountain of clean water so that thousands of rainbows with each of its drops return to the earth pour over your head and face and make you laugh with the play of the spring sun on your lashes and on my breast: grieving and heavy now like this far from your laughter. Loud peals genuine playful joyful, joyful...