hills hills
I climb and get down
sand sand sand
I close my eyes
...
A deep fire burns us directly
Zenith falls on beginnings
Warrior get back on their shields
Garlands of sparks, hundreds of maroon
...
and I do not know where are you
why do not give a sign of life
quiet of ice, whirl thoughts
from which a flower takes your face
...
A rushed rain and disheveled grass
Cranes memories scream
Afternoon declines on a wing
Someone breaks the mirror in us
...
Meadow gentle loosen
Green areas where they
Hear noise of the villages from
Then silence, anyway
...
Hamlet speak
with Yorrick's skull in hands,
which gradually takes form of globe,
which blood drops are flowing from
...
feed me with dark
and I'll hate the truth
take me the view
...
- If you play longer
this ordinary violin
I will break the head
...
with hands down the pants
housekeeper kept the broom as a weapon
knowing that in life has to fight
and scratched through her broken pants
...