the wheel rounds
so are the waves in the seashore back again
to the blue, dark and deep niche
and it comes again and tramples the beach
silent there
there's no voice of singing birds
or the swinging of Bougainvillea clumps
only dumbness
drought it is
and no deer could tell what
hey fishes tell me something
and let's see if I could understand
no, no
I don't know
get no idea
I am dumb, no word
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