In this parallel world
you are on the page
of my enemies
and I'm a fairy
with seven spears in his back
first impression
is like a foggy morning
buried in the armpits
of these turbulent years
you approach me
with artificial smiles and red carnations
golden rain is pouring down the streets
and the sky weeps
for all unhappy loves
it's better for me
to be cold
and never again
not to think
of your poisonous flowers.