Tastes of Night |
After the past night
gushing sun beams
came down through air holes.
I saw those crystal lips
which were aroused
by the kiss of black atmosphere.
Departed night is a net.
Who can give it the growth of a tree?
A new tree is a technical deceit.
There glitter on its branches
windows of sky,
the cavities of earth and
the journeys into emptiness.