The rolling impetus from the heart of the objects,
leaving erased time traces,
is seeking its luck abroad.

It’s pulsing curved water colors
in lighting circles.
Maybe you will see inside
how they place themselves in the world spheres,
how the grass turns like in your green soul
with gentle movements.

I saw a rainbow on the horizon
over the raw green arch
and a lark up flying;
The sky was lighting in songs
and a streaky ray sun
burns above the elms forest
where I cool down,
deer spring
drunk in crystal mornings.

Furthermore, there are opening paths
I do not know.