When lines of borders
will have disappeared...
We won't have
blood anymore.
The best thoughts
will be a world's culture...
And white boun of
barbarism will
simple in ash.
Our history
don't have the future...
The thousands bowls
were drank...
They were a poets...
One way or another..
Our horizon is melting
To sacred strings
feeling...
With my lips to the
source...
First we have forgotten
It is mean
We will have found...
Someday..
Because the Iliad
has your own eyes...
Ket Gun
31.03.11