Distorting me once again
through it's bitter blow,
Smudging my visage
through it's nasty flow.
...
Quite friendly they are
Both the moon and the star,
Their closeness can be
Measured from afar.
...
Hopes are like the
Yellow grasses,
Underneath the rock
Laying on and on.
...
Underneath the clouded memory
A visage with whom I collided,
...