I am real silence
The fruit of the soul comes out of my fingers
So do you
The poems are given names
There's no need to cry too much
Even if there is
Linked to poetry with silence
is this torn body
Too much
I exist
From his collection the ground was trampled
Going through humiliation
Tied in a dead knot of time and space
Poems and silent lamentations
Can no longer run from sin
Until old age
And I care more about realizing
I don't want to be immortal anymore
A thousand years of longing for sin