Who doesn't belong to the unity of ocean?

Illuminated olive colors under the water

are cold like our extinguished tastes.

The wounded tongue of stone is waiting

for the fall of the leaf of calamity.

Who is going to taste

the flavored liquor of the smoky branches

twisting on the palm trees?

Tastes are lost.

Nights have ridges; days have wrinkles.

Winds are restless; the sky is chilled

We are lost in the jungles of galaxies.

See on the roadside a beggar's scattered body.

Our lips have lost their nerve.

Dust has clothed our bodies.

Hairs are singing classical music

Often the flowing sand-bowls

remind me of the blank

darkness of your lips.

Occasionally among the hilly passes

the burnt snow

falling from the stormy clouds

resemble about the flourishing black buds in your body.