QUESTION COMPLIANCE

Listen and watch, the soft, careful twilight falls unnoticed on the scales of falling rozsa-mart leaves. He gently knocks the cotton candy puffs of the rain-stricken skies all the way through. Crows toddler in reddish Avar when the evening comes. Slowly, the yellow-faced moon with jaundice walks sickly.

Where are you dear friends, who once cried out with beautifully pleasing, pleasing sacred promises for what you believed in loyalty and compassion?! Where did the thrills of annual face-to-face encounters go when we all who considered how, when did it change so physically?

How the real, crystal-clear loves, the confessions woven from the true pearl, the girl's requests, were left behind, when the lurking little wedding ring already suggested more than the foolish, love word: "How much I LOVE you!" "When could we really be ourselves? When did we have to listen unnecessarily to the more pathetic sermons of our slave hairdresser bosses about the increased profit that only benefits them at more meaningless profit-seeking meetings? When could we be self-forgetfully happy and satisfied on a sandy island except for two weeks off?

Alas, cumbersome, pregnant weekdays! Man thinks through the life of a speck of dust again and again, while the invisible rokka threads of Fate proclaim a judgment over his penitent head. "Who was the one who sinned more, or just betrayed, trampled on his fellow men?!" "A passing, incessant series of questions that would cry out for answers! We are past half our lives for a long time! Now it is still questionable whether there is still a Friend, Companion, noble Spirit to whom we can count in all circumstances, or whether we are also grounded in a bitang-galad mode by fate-pulling, bit-tunable deeds, sly actions?!