At the edge of the furthest mountain,
Between the valley and the lazy river,
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the hues painted by the setting sun

Obscurity taking over like a new king
Birds flying about like dangling chopped onions in an oily pan
Hoots of an awl echoing the reincarnation of the darkness

In the lazy river, frogs croack
in tuneless tunes
Frost...