The fermentation is soaking into the cells
It is transfiguring that the girl is fighting for us
The prayer of drowing is a burning daffodil
Its mass is the loneliness that is surging in the blood
Ancient rupture in the unbearable deed
I light vault clouding over us
Only i feel what both means,
If mud-mossy saliva, torn plait of hair
Thus it grows into the far-gone lige
The landscape lives on torn tufts of grass
Cold wind blows, on the silent shores
A lost king, my legislator
Is awakening