Following the traces of the valley, like a lone lynx

 

 

Pieces come together to form a world, swallowing the light

 

The whisper of the wilderness spreads across the twilight sky

 

As the night deepens, in the stream caught by the ground spider

 

It's time for the last train, a heart swinging with motion sickness

 

The loneliness of the lighthouse keeper stands in the middle of the triangle

 

Preserving the serenity of the old man, like a yard game

 

Listening with ears, the bitterness like pepper seeps in

 

Dreaming of a great voyage, walking the desert with the sound of drums

 

The sandstorm blows, even with closed eyes, the traces of water

 

Become fragments engraved in the heart, missing them