The Northern Palace of Heaven
Has finished its quartered race --
Chaos ceases with the North Star
In the centre; grief halts completely
With the shooting star; all vultures
Flock together to peak the falling
From the night sky diamonds.

Brightness of light is raying out --
Even the spirits and gods
Would be anxious from seeing
The winning of the pitch Darkness.

My paintings come to be complete
All before the exhibition's deadline;
The coal graphs on the cave walls
Emerge from the ice age apartments.

Everything starts to be reasonable
With the light of immediate surroundings;
Together we weave tens of thousands
Of sunny days. Each and every one
Is a half-open door of someone else,
Just try to keep the door hinges greased,
That's it. No doubt, the endless Path
Pertains to all of us, without exception.