I’ve known you a long time,
Probably the eviternity.
Now I’m as if in a stupid film,
Trying to roll up the infinity.

Your grimace is clear-cut.
Your taunts are plain.
Your eyes are as if pictured.
You’re near, and they’re far-away.

Your hair is at my finger-tips.
It’s rigid and rough as strings.
Touch them by hand and here's the space.
Your hair’s reminds stings.

Your silence is my kaiken - 
A short sword and a precise beat.
You despised me by your muteness.
How familiar is your cheat!

Your firmly closed lips
Are like a mask of tragic jesters.
Do you hear trumpets are playing afar?
A strange love is being buried there.