I was wondering around
The desert of my gold...
Of every hyalite I found
And mercilessly sold...
Eighteen deserts I passed through
With my crown in hands,
Contemplating mere truth
Of my flying sands...
I know desert breaths with snakes...
Sown roses should be dead...
Willy-nilly my heart aches,
But... I don’t regret..!
(2003)
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