Someday, in the midst of dividing planes
there will be stones waiting to be crushed
and after the painful ordeal of dividing and crushing,
you will be sleeping in caves
with the moon patiently guiding you.
I will only be watching you shiver and
there might be crows that will visit you.
Hold on! Nostalgic night will come and in your
memory I will be a deja vu—
eternal battle you will fight with bare hands.
(for him who hides in the tin box)