to Misty Flowers
Your birthday is when beauty is born...

If you can no longer love,
you are undoubtedly dead...

Accepting you own
means recognition of the...

How green the mortal
for the undying garden...

Your purity is my temple—
a spring, a crystal pool...

Oh, little goldfish,
leaning upon your throne of glass...

Time is life
spent in the amnesia...

If you crucify him again,
what will be your excuse...

Bigger than ever,
yet smaller than a moment...

To be all,
reducing to null...

In the darkness, people are more sincere
Because they are their own vicious being...

Every meaning is there
amid meaninglessness...