For lurid details
of velvety arms,
in ashes you sleep.
Knowingly you walk
into a death well,
opening the trapdoor.
Seizure brings
the nearness to unknown,
deliberately.
I do not know me―
now, after reciting
your name.
Oh God, why did
you play with coda,
before the curtain drop?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem