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.