These rivers of cries are endless
because oceans are connected...

His swords never seek
death or vengeance, they only...

A samurai strikes
from the pivot point...

From their green fragrance
watermelons are bleeding...

No one ever reaches justice
unless they discover it...

Skies are so grey.
It is pouring inside out...

I walk on the street of this town
unadorned and unfashioned...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the spirits...

To escape death,
there is no choice but to live...

We float in present
spreading in past...

(after Lorca)
Yes, dear friend...

They were lifeless before they could meet,
like the ingredients in the ocean...