Here, knee-high to a grasshopper narrowed the ground
While time, rejected from world, is gaunt.
I am that one who waked up from the tomb
Without remembering that ever been buoyant

On fresco’s creations of the life
A cruel arm painted with lime,
No shapes, no colors for catch sight,
Only misty, mortuary white

A single day sloops slowly like thousands,
But like a minute slipped ten thousands.
I’m only steam losing within eternity
Alike mari I’m falling into void absolutely.

Catch speed my soul, master of ruin,
Amongst you’ve done, what does remain?
Than me is more precious a thorn
I am alive only to feel that I’m still born.