...There I sat atop the mountains
Whispering, it's a beautiful world...

Thus I remain, a naive vagrant, to her absolute
Absconded across myriad miles of misty minarets...

You can take from here
My eyes, my tongue, my ears...

Every winter, fog cascades into spring
Greeting its scents from remnants of autumn...

My sky is falling down to me;
All those peering clouds, are over...