A handful of hyacinth from an ocean
Which just you know from where you collected
When you put it into the pockets of my trouser
Blue sky chose to blossom into white flowers

Look at the pink bottle in the red shelf
I have preserved them for my poetry
The key to the bottle is inaccessible to others
As it is protected in my scarlet box of waves
Those pleasure and pains in a tiny bouquet
This morning only I opened the bottle
And to my blue shiver found this line
Poetry is two handfuls of grapevine