daydreaming

translated by PLS

time melting inside the body like salt,

what’s left is our gazing eyes:

moon rising in the sun’s descent, the jaunty exclamation marks on the notebook

already bent like scythes, inquiring about the whereabouts.

the desert or a wasteland waiting to be cultivated, believing once

there must be a clear answer for the future

but life can’t be as accurate as a scale, differentiating

gold or patina, the voyager who enters the night

grasping the vastness with eyes masked, sword grass kissing goodbye to the dilapidated

prosthetic legs, expecting the walking stick to turn into a peach blossom, and the torso

into an ocean deeper than time, water all over an arid land.