[03] Who 1

Did he want anything Followed someone behind Wanted some touch noiselessly The pleasure of touching body with body Did he wish to kiss secretly Or only desired to set mind on mind What he wanted then He who rolling on the dust Wanted amazing neglect Not to play adultery lady-love Wanted platonic moderate flower Hate you dream— hate, hate that blunder Who is still alive in the grave Who wanted she died explicitly Not the Orpheus-Eurydice But why he wanted to win Knowing unfair desired straight Therefore he acquired nectar poison Who have known life is complex Let burn then from own fire Is neglect not the nickname of hate Left and right is oscillating on false flowers Worthless cultivation with desire and dream Kite flies in the sky not the swan The sky-garden dress up with dark-tan flowers of disgust Moneyless wealth less posterior undulating on the dirt Abhorrence surging on the toe One day realization came and announced No one for none anymore— deep blue pique The tail of audacity let be cut Who can drink the grief of whom Separate distinct life with dissimilar egoism As if at last entered into Milky Way Poet has put on the rings of grief If the image does not sprouts from the zero calyx Hate the poems declared in the day light