It is commented, in knee language. His tail in the form of a rainbow-silence. In multitude of time. At the foot of the poem's letters, the crooked black legs of the cockroach mark the rhythm of the writing. They are no less dangerous than a multitude of cockroaches. And our frontier storm created to give us water shelter. His generosity on fire. It comes crystal clear to answer the muted silence. To the silence of the struggles of avarice. Embedded in faux homage. Sending, as an offering, the autumn leaves. Free from the tearing of pain and all affliction. Of the quiet great sacrifice. Along the path marked by the hooves. Small lakes are created in the dimension of the hollows in the rain. On the surface of which the yellow bees drink. While its agile flying insect wings are reflected. To bring the bounty of another fall.