1. I scribble my question on scraps but I see
no end to your aloofness, oh you whose union copies severance.

2. My eyelids bleed with tears, and for no reason,
only the month after month of distant separation skinning me.

3. Will this year of mine have a grin from your brow
whereby, not my spilled tears, it will be recorded?

4. If boughs are cloaks resembling you,
you too have become lost and arrogant.