My darling is no longer here
nor on tonight's poetry
where half of her face was lost in the night
and dreams are now no longer like a blushing red moon
when I last saw her drunk in the lap of love.

It’s really happy if you can always create the night from restless in your heads--
creating many twinkling stars in your sleep
reaching the sky
seeing her cute smile from out there.

What is my darling doing now?
Like a hope that I failed to achieve again.
O, is this a loss that is felt many times?

Tonight is like last night.
Poetry is like a cure for every addiction
to such a sad life.
O, I just let go--all the words.
Just let her fly around the lost soul
on a body that was empty
and had become in rubble vanished.

Even though there is no moon and stars anymore
even though you are still looking for the bright light
in your cramped room--
because the sobs never end and always cover your chest.
Tonight will remain a long night--
the sound of the bats are so deafening
the sound of the crickets soothe the atmosphere—
like your lonely heart
who has died by many buts.

Alright, let's get it--everything
like nothing had ever happened
like the indifference of human life
like you can only feel your soul fly in the imagination that you create yourself.

Alright,
tonight will be like last night--a long night
the night where my darling is no longer here
neither in my head
nor in this poem.