He stands before
a holy , live idol...

Walk and walk on
no noise , no pause...

All those who are asleep now
not dead for good...

Sorrow, o my love,
take me into your arms...

From the silvery ashes of the
worn-out poetry...

White or black
lies wear garb...

Abrasive pain bruised my heart.
It pricked and pecked at last...

Thanks for the 'no'
or else i`d run and run...

We were aboard an express-train;
the iron-wheels were racing then...

Excited feet, instructed feet
tread from the venue to the venue...

Behold the sturdy, steely blade;
so brightly it dazzles in the rays...

Out of the 'Visage-cave'
buzz out a swarm of words...