The Tiny Arctic

Somewhere in the wind Rattling the song “Buzzy empty lane” Hovering the small settlements With so many loves and romances The shady banyan tree Exuding the cool shade And the flower-laden milkwood Infusing the night With heavenly fragrance passersby Oh, passerby who would not care Taking a look at the tropical almond That is lightly fusing the air With its long and yellow and so fragile flower In a small, quiet corner There is an young man Arduously repairing the antique European clocks Of which past glories and myths are reflected in each second hand Oh, these little lanes What are they secretly hiding? In their deep paths A Metaverse matrix Yes, like a metaverse matrix In an arctic, there lives a girl The neighborhood sometimes wonders Why has this pretty girl not settled down? She must well be over forty And time will not wait Oh, that girl’s heart Who knows Has been committed to the luther Everyday Oh, everyday She hangs her scallop paper life On its notes of emptiness.