Baskadia

Did you lose the book

That held my phrases

Or carelessly change it for the moonlight?

Did you forget

That it became inscribed with the sort of love

So that it will never fade away?

I cannot keep on

To iciness blossoms wild and unfastened

For it isn't a fair analogy,

Nor a tiger that must roam,

As a substitute, my phrases

Will continually talk

My substantial fact by myself.