In the Twilight By Narcissus' Water's Edge

After the passing of countless days, and stepping on the stack after stacks of many years, I came to the dusk gathering wilderness where no flowers bloom, no fawns run, or doves fly as they once did. Neither found me a reflection of the image of that handsome lad Narcissus in the ripple of that same water where I visited whenever I felt lonely. In such a desolate wilderness by the marsh a lonely reed stands all alone reddened by the blood that the thorn bird spits with heart-rending cry, and tells the story that he alone kept in his heart for sometime, why he has to return, though he said that he would never return at the time he was ousted from this water’s edge. The leaves scattered here and there in this deserted wilderness, and the wind has no place to go, being piled up under the feet of a vagabond who does not know who he was or what he will be, crossed the time infinity, while kicked by and roamed with vagabond and before knowing, hanging on the sky becoming countless stars of the night.