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The earth grates at my feet
When I land alone and without destination
Between the moon's bewitchment
And a monstrous plate of snow
The void blackened by cold
Fronts hollow against my brow
...the musicians die with faces of sheet
infants come into a watercoloured world of mist...
A blue pointed phosphorescence
Rapidly gathers the wind
Busily floating up and sinking in
Stitching up the blanket of snow
...ah a black parade of acacia...
I have been under no illusion thus far
This road that I have taken tonight
Failing all in my duties at every turn
Is not the proper path
It will benefit no one
Yet I am helpless to find another way
...the trace of a plate-thin white fissure
in a crystal sky of milky lustre...
The snow makes what I see more solitary than an ocean
With its ceaseless flickering
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