The same word is repeated,
and they surely come.
I am brimful of anger again under the bend sky.
Still I can't sleep.
and they surely come.
I am brimful of anger again under the bend sky.
Still I can't sleep.
I walk though I am with my eyes shut to all.
All the sky mixes in this point.
Besides, no one is here.
But, if it proceeds just like this.
Or ...
In the cold room of "the image" .
As doing not let this letter go yet.
The inside of the grave air .
I rewrote the letter
which many foretellers wrote.
A fortunate crow draws a precise arc.
"Light" .
However, that is the colossus
which tells an end at the same time.
Was I hoping for this?
I feel like having known far since the old days.
The bird, too, which writes the verse of hope .
He had a sad face at night.
Even if I tries to ask about the reason.
As much as he sheds tears.
If it thinks that it will be before long,
entirely stopped with the semicircle.
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