him               and her pillow

and    an        open window

the world     of  reality  and

his figure is          beautiful.

she was     tied with a rope 

a woman,     grieving again

the     blue         spring mist

when              we are older

we will be            changed

we will talk of               the

mystic    melancholy     of 

adolescence,     its vitality,

and a grave that vanishes:

time                           itself