Whatever happens tonight, I will remember. How I sleep with you hidden in my chest, how you come to wipe away my tears...all...all!
Still I cannot say anything... Whatever I say becomes sin.
When you ask me this and that, I say quite easily, I don't know. Why should I tell you, if telling itself means sin!
What I carry with me now as I live is called wordlessness. When the voice becomes a skilled weapon of death, when processions of sin-born words cling to the corners of lips, then kicking away sin's pleasure—that is life!