The inexpressible chagrin
It's tow enormous eyes uncovered
When spattering its crystal out
The flower vase awoke from dream.

From the moon cold rays outstretching,
In my heart are needles etchings.

All is death and quiet, [bad word] With the world-rock still filled by moon.

Intoxicated is the place,
With languor-what a tasty potion!
Amazing: so a tiny kingdom
Has yet devoured so much peace.

From the moon cold rays outstretching,
In my heart are needles etchings.

All is death and quiet, [bad word] With the world-rock still filled by moon.

In my heart, unventured dreams die off,
Spring's first flowers your ridicule cast off.