The pioneer journey

  In the deserts of the wilderness,

Under Mount Burhan Kaldon,

His sheep were surrounded by goods.

And he, the shepherd,

He counts his sheep over and over again

It was as if his daughters.

I've been here with him for weeks.

Like a shepherd dog who does not know from his right hand or his left hand.

Every day we swallowed a piece of road,

Revealing a new meadow,

A field of food, water and opportunity.

This is how we unveiled the cloak of the wilderness

Tap another tap

Until one day the journey is over.

On the day we stood on the summit,

The cold of the morning freezes my bones,

Scribble to me in my notebook,

In the language of the horse warriors:

"Who is the pioneer?"

Who goes first.

Get up in front of everyone. And move.

Leaping into the void.

Ready to pay the price ...

And shorten the opportunity.

Four faces to him, to rescue.

The volume. Which forges the fear to the mace.

The builder. The blow to the mace and exposes the ship.

The skipper. Carrying the ship to the water.

The weaver. He who weaves the water for the purpose of ascension. "

The old man gave three pieces of advice to the rescue:

"Succeeding at the approaching waters.

They are the coldest.

Get rid of the ego.

He is the anchor for the depths.

Moving to the abyss.

This is the sublime path to escape. "