somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Smile
Speak quietly
Conjugate words
Kiss

Smile
Show teeth
Stick out your tongue
Salivate

Smile
Scream loudly
Hold breath
Swallow

Smile
Taste flavor
Pleasure him
Masticate

Smile
Speak eloquently
Say ahh
Repeat

Under an unending sky surrounded by flowers from ones own dream,
This is where I'd find rest.
An eternal rest for the dream yet remains endless and the night everlasting.
The world I see, feels so unreal, I wouldn't want to reopen my eyes.
If the possibility, the chance to never waking up when I have gone to find slumber tonight, it would certainly be alright.
A nightmare which is hunting me even whilst I am in full of my consciousness, a hell without rebirth,
The sunlight, simply out of reach, unable for my eyes to engage in it's warming, comforting, sweet grasp anymore, the moon shines bright.
Sound melts into silence, the city loses its colours yet the flowers remain, blooming in elegance, standing proud in the reflection of the sun's light which once again has overshined the twinkling stars.
Even if tomorrow were never to come,
I would not be able to care about it in any way possible.
For now just let me rest my eyes.

~ Umi