What is that of this,
I will ask from the question...

I will call you
in a moon night-through...

Truth survived between us.
You were my anthem...

On the mount
a broad-leaved tree was preparing...

Touching your
glacier lips with my poems...

I was my own
slave to walk on rose...

Like a hedgehog you raise
your spines...

One hazel moon
of November. I was thinking...

How will you undo
the legacy of violence...

In the triumph of flesh,
when fame of the world was your thing...

Full moon was negating the intensity of night.
I wanted the sacred smell of dark heaven...

A view from the cause,
alters the landscape in you...