I am just a small piece of paper carrying a colorful dream on small hands and young feet. My eyes are very wonderful like a migratory ship and my skin is a mystery, and a colorless puzzle. When the quiet clouds saw my plane, madly melted in silence. Please, this is my postponed life. It is the beauty of my lost love. Yes, I am a small heart, so you see my words roll freely and madly.

I was traveling in the desert cities with a smile in my heart. The puzzling sea gave me an old song. It is a memory coming from faraway land told me about the adventure that sat in our depths. It always told me that the wind is a strange leaf that misleads us with delusions, but when we sleep, we see its face clearly. At that moment, her cold stories will show us. I am not a big bluffing mirror, but I feel like I'm a colorful shade looking for a unique flower, and when I find it, it says: Student, sometime you need to be blind to see clearly. I hear her voice, and I see her face in my heart, because I am a blind man.

The winds have seen all the beauty on the banks of rivers, but they cannot understand the causes of salt in our waters. They can see our lake but there are no beavers in it because of these salty souls that drove them to flee. The butterflies told me about their magic amazement and love, but believe me I can only see salty souls eating my boat.

When the roads open their eyes, all the sympathetic fish will come to the sea. You can't imagine the way of the smile comes with pink flowers tweeting near that window which sleeps on my mom hands. Without any end, I feel hidden happiness in the light of my mother.  My heart, like a bird on an ice branch, and in my opinion, I am a leaf without movement. But my love is that wind that can cross all the clouds, and the grass that hugged all the goats in the world, but the love of the mother is a different and impossible world in a unique way.

Here are soft hands, just like cream, and this is not because of smooth skin, but rather their big hearts. They gladly engage in our deep sense as the old nobles, and with their smile bring every possible pleasure. From these colorful waterfalls, intimacy takes on its beautiful dress, and the breeze learns its passion. You can find the same kindness in coffee perfumes, in forest birds, and in garden flowers, but it's totally different when you see the glory of kindness in the eyes of lovers.

Your braids are a breeze in which votes are lost. Your fired doors were stolen by ice, and your beautiful legs, like pines, were frozen in the north. Your chants are thorny, and your heart's eyes are white with sadness. O Hard sand, give my mouth a fired candy, as freedom does not know cold lips.

I asked every rose in our garden and every tree near our house to tell you frankly: Every year I love you more. Today, in this charming morning I spoke seriously with the sun, and we decided to tell you one fact: Every year I love you more. It is the last night of December and this year has passed with a great memory, but what I really remember are our moments where I love you more. Now, on this silent night, near our little fireplace, specifically in this intimate winter moment, I listen well to my coffee and remember every word of it and how it tells me to give you a big hug and tell you strongly: Every year I love you more and more.  When I sit next to you, I love you more, and when I travel across faraway lands, I deeply feel that I love you more.  When I talk to you, I love you more, and when I remember your words, I love you more and more. In fact, every day I love you more, and every year I love you more.