The enameled sole vessel,
a window, one bed and table on bedside, —
my life is hard and unconvenient,
but it’s convenient to die.
I’m lying down thinks that
who yesterday had gone in otherworld
which is unreachable and trulely obstruct
was with white bedsheet encovered.
The quiet water drips from faucet, that’s messed.
And life is ruffled like a slut,
It comes out of which likely can be missed
and sees: one bed and table on bedside…
And I’m trying to get up
and want to look into its eyes.
Avert my own eyes — my tears just are going to burst up
and I have nevermore to die.