Whale Bone
You rolled, pure white, off my hand.A long time ago we had come here.Grey sand was coiling in the wind, butA long time ago I noticed where it all was going *
A sandy beach and train tracks,The train running over the ocean is heading for the terminal station.The unwilling, yellow sun is sinking.I'll make a blanket that mystifies the cold from lined up words, and give itTo you, while you seem to be sleeping on your notebook.
I tried searching for, and gathering up the whale bones, butIt became bothersome, and I gave them all to you.Because you could, you put them back together for me, butA malicious wind blew through the whale
It's become cold.I'll end it today, tooThe swaying lamp in the train window still desires to puzzle me,Because it was happy, fun, hard, and vexing.The loneliness that had encircled those feelingsIs no longer hunting us, right?
A sandy beach and train tracks,The train running over the ocean is the out-of-service train.The self-assertive sun has risen.To you, who wanted to be a whale and pulled my hand,I want to give everythingBut instead, it would be nice if I could become small and white, and return here