There is a forgotten me in me
The sound of rain in the gutter

The satisfied passion that is obvious in me
It is the desire of life and the thought of death

A drunken song that was in the thought of dying
Staring at the threshold of the door behind which there was no house

The moments of life that were painful
A house of hope that stared at the darkness

The beautiful and velvet shirt I was wearing
I was wearing a party dress of death

You are the idol that I made with my frozen fingers in winter
You are the same note that I played with my body in the crowd of the street

The wide mouth of the field swallows me
The fallen figure at the bottom of the cup of hemlock laughs at me

My day begins without dawn
My night slips into a sad sunset

You are the purest irony of poetry
Oh, you are...