the syllabus of the balcony
continues

the black-blossom just beneath your chick
can’t be extinguished

the waves
that are moving  with their own axes  
smile to the eyes
to make me more adult

the water of the flow tide
works for the whole day

at the end of the day it carries to home
five grains of the buds of the lotus
to maintain livelihood

the dew-drops
accumulating in the womb of the poetry
also want to change some warmth

riding on the football of 2-30 at night
the vermillion of the full-moon
on your forehead
all on a sudden
takes a sip
in the fishing-net of the tennis-man