Land­scapes have slid away,
only a herbal gen­er­al­i­ty prevails.
“Excuse me, I feel sick,
it is too staunch
under your fur hat.
Excuse me, I am leav­ing this train.”
To the north­ern castle,
to lace, under north­ern embroidery!
Ship­ping is break­ing up,
the sea is suffering,
the sphere of the North is bursting.
Glass van­ish­es through glass.
It is snowing,
the world is deep.
God does not see me.
There are few reasons,
one is beyond nature.
 

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