Why is soul of mine melodious,
and the dearest names are few;
instantaneous rhythm - Aquilonis -
is at most rule of chance for you?
It will surge in a dusty cloud,
make a noise with the paper leaves,
and will never return from out;
if returned - not the same it leaves.
Oh unlimited wind of Orpheus,
you will pass into seashore land.
I forgot useless "self" - I'm obvious
to be nurturing my null first-hand.
I have wandered through toy-like thicket
and have found azure cave...
Have I really been? I peek at
(with amazement) my jura: grave.
02/11. 02. 10
the original