O goddess of priests, in punishing myself I found you today.
Tonight you will sleep in my eyes, and I will search my lost poems.
Did you touch the faded leaves to bring back a withered spring?
A song still waits in the throat of a cuckoo. The wasted years! Do you hear me, walking in sleep on burning coals as a penance for the world going wrong.?
What did I do? I ask my past, my present, my unhappened future?