Poem

A little while ago, someone had shaken off the old dust of life and scattered it on the street.

The mouth of the red metal colored glass bottle fulfilled in dust and,

was covered with the last drop of body liquor.

The unshakable beauty of the white flowers on the street -

in fine, thin lines on the body of silent wailing.

A boat leaning almost to one side on a lonely street:

On some familiar, heavy rainy day, an unknown child,

on some old paper boat made at one time,

was shining-

an advertisement for the lipstick of a grey beauti youth.

The pieces of white cloth that had changed hands repeatedly and were being sold around were being bargained for loudly.

The cheap incense burners were trying to cover up the smell of tired time with the stingy, generous smoke.

A lot of watercolors were poured into the small bowl:

In it, the water that fell on the verge of endless immersion in swimming-

Clay dolls were being made with very familiar bodies,

Unfamiliar clothes for several centuries-

In the hope that the mortal dolls would become indestructible.