The silence spreads like mist
over the field that no longer exists.
The earth no longer feels the footsteps,
doesn’t remember the bodies that passed through.

The wind, a distant whisper,
carries unspoken words
and stories lost before they are told.

There is a place where time gives up
on being continuous and dissolves
into fragments of light and shadow.

Nothing is whole,
everythin...

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The wind blows through the palm trees
like someone passing by without a sound,
but leaves the trace of its presence
in the song of the birds.

The sun is already low,
and the earth, warm, breathes slowly.
Each step is a reminder
that time is a road that doesn't turn back.

Life is made of small gestures:
the worker’s embrace,
the child's smile,
the gaze of the woman who makes a home a...

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In the silence that resonates,
a lament of absences,
the flowers bloom in the shadows,
whispers of a life that fades away.

Eyes searching the horizon
for a trace of hope,
but pain, like a poem,
is sculpted in the words of the day.

The city is a labyrinth of steps
that reflects solitude at every corner -
laughter dissolves in the wind
like falling petals,
disguised in the chaos.

...

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Ah, to suffer,
is not just an invisible burden
that we drag through the streets of life.
It is the mark, the scar,
of existence that shapes us.

To suffer is the pain
that teaches us to see the world
with weary eyes,
where reality is not a straight line
but a labyrinth of thorns and hopes.

In the deep silence of the night,
where the moon whispers secrets of pain,
we find the echo of...

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