When the air was cool and moist,
And everyone was in sound sleep,
I was already in somewhere else,
Somewhere up, up on hill.
While waiting, I threw myself
into a dilemma on a foreign hill:
If I could keep the night,
Would I let the day to take it all away?
In the darkest hour,
We, are equal, because
Hardly can see each other's color.
Then I stopped and gazed beyond.
That infantile brightness shines through
the passage to my inner self,
Feeds my tongue with warm sweetness.
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