I can see
how some tree-leaves take off
their dew
before every noon,
decently and fading.
This park is a yellow body
over which
the sands of a dream
are falling, while
crying.
He - the world's wanderer -
has been leaving his traces
everywhere.
My eye can read
incomprihensible words:
"Visit my soul!
You will see
strange animals
of Fear and Question,
unfettered."