A joke

Wind went through it between the sides

Like smoke of a cigarette passing through a finger-tip

Having lost all

Having got rid of even a feeling to notice having lost it

In darkness of the jet black that nothing looks like

I do not know even a direction walking

I rake a piece of dim memory and gather it

A stupid man continues walking

Complain to whom, attending cry

Is satisfied with oneself, attending cry

Reason strengthened like an armor disappears

I get rid of the words that I should convey

One's ideal

One's reality

I am having dim memory