Snub end of a dismal year, deep in the dwarf orchard, The sky with its undercoat of blackwash and point stars,I stand in the dark and answer toMy life, this shirt I want to take off,which is on fire ....
Our dreams are luminous, a cast fire upon the world.Morning arrives and that's it.Sunlight darkens the earth.
The music of memory has its own pitch,/which not everyone hears.