Before noon
I talk to the gods
Pay my respects. The message is unread
I kiss the floor tiles before the incense smoke fades
We are children of the land

After noon
I head up to the top of the tower
Caress the pearl in the box
Allowing the sun to simmer for a few minutes
In the most crooked angle
To avoid the chance of discoloring

At evening
The playground is abandoned
Kids excel at abandoning
Some buildings grow all of a sudden
While others become phantoms

Quietly
It's quiet this moment
Days of fanfare will settle
Tired are the leaves, dust is the end
The size of the scenery is far smaller than the memories
Streetlight and the last sunset from the universe
Mix together like honey
Coagulate finely, including fallen leaves
And swings

Quietly
It's quiet this moment

I go away wrapped in the coolness
Turn back to see the evening glow