If I am to write of you,
the words would go running,
numbnessly strong,
into the mazes of my mind.
...
Living an oblivion
decided to die,
the little hearth
with flames so high;
...
Silently sitting beside the bed
Was the darkness
Staring to his eyes; the rings of fire
Burning in devilish fever.
...
Dead is the time,
with its hair dissolved,
around the fingers, solely mine.
...
Sang on the balcony
loud and clear
the mocking bird.
...
Of our love-making:
the treasured land of wilderness,
I can tell
if only time awaits.
...
I fell in love
and the air changed,
so did the sky, and the river.
...