In search of Wedding-Suburbs Love has reached at Wastage-cities Our own plants and trees are growing up In those gardens that are owned by others Our motherlands are actual exiled That exist far away from our visual worlds Better, let's never talk of sawmills Trees and those are growing in equal ratio I write down these cruelty in a calendar of water pages On the tongue of a snake that crossing illusion-rivers Days like a great dumb, you know well How rapidly deteriorate human endurance