In search of Wedding-Suburbs
Love has reached at Wastage-cities
Our own plants and trees are growing up
In those gardens that are owned by others
Our motherlands are actual exiled
That exist far away from our visual worlds
Better, let's never talk of sawmills
Trees and those are growing in equal ratio
I write down these cruelty in a calendar of water pages
On the tongue of a snake that crossing illusion-rivers
Days like a great dumb, you know well
How rapidly deteriorate human endurance