three friends combed the city
just as the night shone in the dark
stalking the five troughs of the Nestrang nest
which is odd
light is subdued on the back of jet
three scouts, horned friends
sniffing green weeds, dense miang
for the sad soul
go home without home
passionless leafy rhythm
the bitch is deadly
turning the streets into a river
buildings and shophouses floating like canoes
flowing into the fire estuary ...
five nest ropes
sucking the fog for light
put a trap to death
an unmindful fate
ignore the wind
and lost sense at the time
I'm a trough
who installed a secret seven-hole trap
for the necromancies that plundered the holy prayer
even though the moon's circle is getting odd
flashes of light gilded bitter words
and the promise of death can not be uttered
three friends
cornering the road towards the temple
paraded the street completely
to a half-hearted ancestral grave
I pay homage
now, the light of a moon
away from the city
bewitching a sack into a sawdust
flowing into shallow rivers