Thinking about the past, somewhere the dream has broken
Because the ties are falling into shreads and the oblivion throws a shadow on it,
I am looking back, but I don’t see clearly, because the frame is covered by a transparent scale.
There every face is hazy and the scene is misty.
I have tormented by the desire of descovery…
The powerless exploration bcomes an agitated research.
I am tearing excitedly the dimness’ mash.
Rubbed and ancient scenes are coming out…
I’m recovering its shapes from my memory by erasing the oblivion’s dust from them,
While it glints up in them the still aliving shine.
