The timbre of a crying dog burning in the...
unsettling like unknown...

You burned me with this winter in your heart
I am truly being burned...

I have seen you in darkness
like a moth that was going towards the fire...

Everything is for acting
I am an entertainer...

A fruit basket in a still-life
forever...

We are born,
to live for a while...

Heaven is gushing out of the firmament,
radiances are raining from skies...

Could you for a while cuddle this little bug,
this hug- less kitten in the cold...

We share our solitude with the night.
I witnessed my defeat and the lies triumph...

This people only see the act
They do not see the puppeteers...

Those who've beavered hard
to brush me away by their brooms...

You, my creation, my art,
you every throb...