Once    the world of birds    

Teeming    with birds

The world composed only of treetops

across the void   by songs

The world created    The Kosmo is

A path of stars and the west wind and peat ashes

A silence and a moon    these too

Into the fresh snow of light piled up deep

Dive and get lost anywhere

Long    alone in the snowy night

A sense has come:

Time for the individual having joined 

The outside time    and getting

The urge to    write a letter to

The solitariness itself 

From the country of desert and war

The Hakims    “these words,

God is dead,

Sound like 

Your gorgeous, peaceful, 

Luxurious,    damned world itself”

Vowel harmony in the Koran 

Chanted by the man    has died of 

The syllabic bloods pumped by 

The hearts of birds in quantum-form

The laundry frozen by moonlight

filling a dream sail

Of a chrysalis sleeping alone

Leave me alone

Here and there    reflecting diffusely

Creeping in through the windows and walls

Eyes of snow    whispering shadows of 

Spruce    across the darkness

A sign of a stag watching 

Me    please tonight,

Anyone or anything 

I don’t care,    

Let me be alone

When lonely ones

Get together,

Don’t petition for 

An identity

Don’t embrace one another intimately

Don’t read poetry aloud

Even in the Paper’s    the God’s closed room

Neither radio waves nor the lines reach

There’s a smell of winter light

The mother’s breast is

As a string phone of snow spider

Tense and shaking alone

The cogs hidden in the dream womb 

Tie with the invisible will

The luminous mosses in Mt. Kosmo

Melting to everything in the world,

Dozing off    nobody 

Perceives