When all the bubbles burst,
in far-off islands...

The memory of your laughter
devours the miles...

Oh,
my chest...

My brothers,
my sisters...

The beast did not see the lamb.
It saw only meat...

Your lips—
my shelter...

I have been kept a prisoner,
a prisoner of being alive...

Oh yes—
it’s always a good pitch that does it...

I dream of myself,
for that is where...

Could you, at least in silence,
confess you love me back...

The bird,
an agitation...

Samurai moves smooth,
his body, tuned to the pulse...