Be a poet, but become mute

A little cabin, far from the north

Black dark surrounded, desk top a lamp

Blind lips cannot sing, struggle from symbles and rythms

Seeking right ways to say, thus no ways to breathe.

Looking upon the night, immerse in moonlight

Open your sight, there is polaris with shines

Beyond light-years away, the mouth said

But don’t worry, step by step

From far the north, a little camp.