There is my hand In your skull
There is my pity palm
With web-like vein, many age spots
Too ill-assorted with you, innocent and fearless yet… My skin is totally shrink By my poverty in spirit and insatiability in desire
My finger rubs your fresh bone from inside
Snow melt in my drop of fever
I titillate you
Cherry blossoms fall around
And I even can hear a sing of cicada
I string you
To make you can sing anytime
To make you can go nowhere
On rib bone, thigh, or back on your neck
No, on your slender, fresh and freewheeling ankle
Tightly with my dark pleasure
I allow nobody to touch you, you, my instrument
You tease me like you want
I have already been bored with both dream and real
Please show me a scene
Which will make my all hair white
Please give me myriad of distress
With keeping face looks like you wouldn’t hurt a bug
In the well-shaped skull
So I never be able to
Pass my hand over you
Even with my all love to you