Chords are broken in the mastered circles,
Open him up with knife,
Crickets can leap and chirp,
Butter has been brought,
On an island I confess,
Feeding the life, feeding the life;
We might considerably collect anybody
To feed on life who lives on and on.
The chord has snapped of a circular man
Or a stick-man, although I crept onto him
From the world and the planets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem