DOOR

            
             It is Catul’s  fate fore me
             with post-nmortem  way  with  dement.
             The sense of our  days ,what is their degree
             if the scale is braked as equivelent.

             Our personal fate  is the links of the street
             or in pages storm, or in the prison cells,
             I cant know who with their rhymes repeat,
             Where my concieous friend like a  magician dwells?

               Let we go with sands or  with air roads,
               waiting  for the rules to  happen,
               let these ages  keep their own Gods,
               but Socrates strengh  must be  weapone!

              In selected time we there really are,
              look at flames of sun in its gasoline.
              Vale,dear! We are as a ghost  unseen,
              at the blackmail  home or  within pulsars!

             Give me a  proud sight as  your support,
              How  cloudlike is the thought of science.
              Look at apartments as a real airport,
              It is   earthly door for compliance!