I send forth soft touch,
Hoping to heal the damage,
Done by another,
In another time.
...
I feel as if I'm
Standing with one foot
On each side
Of a dividing line.
...
I feel like a plum,
Beginning to ripen.
Who will pluck me
From the thorny branches
...
This morning,
Instead of whistling,
My teapot moaned.
What does this mean?
...