It's the yellow ray in the passionate dusk,

To mesh my soul in the morning breath,

I was lost in the hazardous tale,

I never saw a man before, who caught

the drifting cloud in summer bask.

In pain, in gain it's the prison wall

Became free, suddenly my thick hair

Flied to the sky above, creating a

blushing fog in the watcher's doom.

Breaking the woodland hills,

I saw him, trading with mellow

Sweet foam, rolling in his sleeves

To fleck the waves in the cello.

He's good hidden in the crystal pavilion,

Sweet demon in willow cribs,

I, for once dared to touch the rain,

To get drenched in his arctic bribes.

With all faded inks and paints,

I was caught between the volumes,

Still calm in the passing waves,

Storm or strife, I was already on the train.

In the lifeless landscape, I dreamt

Of a phantom, far away from the road

He's there in the wet ground,

A moment before the last dusk.

Cold snow drifted over my eyes,

Syllables died on the clouded sky,

For a second, winds knocked out

His eyes darkened in the strange world,

Letters throbbed in summer lies.

Hearts of hearts must strain,

My eyes searched for his trace,

The words, I wished to share

Travelled around the pit.

His face fade away in the picture shade,

Distinct, but I remember palpable

sight, where he's just mine.

— 31st July, 2024.