The sun was setting.
Circling around...

The women cry through day and night,
they bathe in sundry tears...

My sister took a goblet dive
in the autumn woods...

Freedom is a crushed cerebral cortex,
the silencing of human nature...

Eyes peel to the pang-
with its beats...

There is no need to smooth out the terrain-
for who’s heart would bob and burst...

Holy truth of humankind does not exist.
For I could tell a thousand wretched stories...

Even fettered as I am now,
the chains are not so bothersome...

I admit defeat.
I admit this ragged shawl...

Mother says
‘You look so tired...

I am the stream,
tripping down the trail...

The nothing new—
another verse and all...