1.
The night the stove fire roaring, my trachea is burning. Scriptures are written on pillowcases, stifling. My skin warps and blooms and a chrysalis shrouds me as I maintain the right position of sitting. Nightmares chant behind the headboard, transforming into tulips’ bones, burrowing into ossuary. I enter the desolate and solemn fantasy.
2.
砂嵐が仏壇と混ざり合い、埃が私の目を霞ませる、これは開放的だが閉塞的な意識の絵だ。 頭の中ではセントルロイデススコーピオンが噛みつき、瞳の中の有角孔雀は10平方メートルの中に答えを探し出す。そびえ立つ鐘楼! なぜ、それは私と私の惨めな手を鼻で笑うのだろう。 時計の針は見えないところで溶けていく、明日は水で薄めたコーヒー。うそだうそだうそだよ、煙突の沙汰と、土砂降りの心。
3.
Vicious standards! It is the sinister hem that looks flashy but tangles the dancer in bondage.
4.
太陽の光と浮かぶ泡、情熱的なテクストの楽しみ、私を溺れさせる！無意味な読解や麻痺した演説はもう見たくありません。
5.
Remains — the shredded wings of a thousand cranes, tin-foil fish, botanical extracts — all buried under a white dome. I linger in the life that leaps off the page, the sunlight that surges out, the consumption of vitality. A tangled, ascending melancholy and distortion! The spring snaps; I drift between the limits of morality and music, writing poems for knots I cannot undo.
6.
Above the iron railing, a cabbage white butterfly beats against the glass — I think of that tired bee. The base of the stone pillar is covered in pebbles. I throw the curtains wide open.
7.
Impressively, azure take over the nightfall. Cirrus clouds drift by, what makes me feel cozy is the the aurantiacus reflected on the screen and the tangerine of the book cover.
8.
他人の声の氾濫を望むべきなのか？流れ落ちる砂礫、肌の鱗、鍵盤の呟き。ヘッドホンコードが絡まり、背中に絞め技をかける…ビタミン剤、賞味期限切れ！大小さまざまなボトルやジャーは、人々に生命をもたらすのでしょうか？むしろ砂丘に永久に埋もれていたい。
9.
Baudelaire under the electric light recites his poems to no one.