Was very confused.
I was becoming poorer
everyday. The depletion was complete.
Polymorphous? Where do I find
the affinity with saneness? I
wanted to quit now,
drawing the faces of dead.
Farce embers,
in white fire. Climbing on a
fence for a fatal jump after
cavorting with drifting icicles
of blue eyes. Can you sleep-
walk in full moon? I am
ecstatic.White death has become my friend!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem