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I am so foolish and naive...I must have
forgotten...shattered glass does hurt.
I once more reach my bare hands, naked fingers
trying to mend the shattered glass;
the pieces sparkling and shining...
the ocean in sunset...the pieces
sparkling and shining...the starry firmament
　
A touch, a grasp, a shrill chill
rouses me from my peaceful sleep...
　
blood-red tears pouring out from the wounds,
deep down from the phalanges
of every finger tip, finger pad,
finger-joint of my thumbs, index, middle,
ring, and little fingers; of the balls of
the thumb; from the cuttings of the head,
heart, and life lines
falling apart on my palms-
the inflaming magma flooding,
running down, overwhelms the veins
in every part of my body- pain....
