It's just an agency,
Through which the message is delivered from the abyss
My jarring mood comes from
The Expectation of future,
Or the fleeting and fragmented memory, but
Here and now, it's diluted in the blinking sunset.
The warmth of the springtime,
The gentle touch of wind,
Even the tender green appeared on naked willow twigs,
All melts the anticipation of an unanswered call.
You know, my dear,
To arrive at this tranquil moment,
And to sip a bit this crystal sparkling wine,
You have to trespass this mundane world
And uplifting yourself from the traps of time,
Relentlessly,
Until that ageless light comes to you.
