224 How I want my youth to be a black like winter, not to put my pen down, but to paint it, to see everything that has eyes, and I want my temperament, and my personality, my thoughts, what I want to express, and I, the paint of all this, in one pen, I am a pen that can run, and I run all over the world, and the whole earth, wherever I go, I will draw it at once, happy, healthy, lively spring, like a tree like a flower, and never fade.

"The Song of Things" poem, additional prose to the earth is in the hand, please wait a moment,

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