The west reaches the clothes of new colors

Illustrated with gold and rose

Though the size of clothes rapidly gets smaller

The lingering hues resist and overflow

Not long after a pitch black curtain falls

And the eyes of angles sparkle in the sky

In a glimpse the moon has then been called

May I just cease the time and silently cast a good-bye?

Yet I know the dawn will still rise

Steal the amber and break the hush

Yet I know the time will always go clockwise

Like those hectic bees in a rush

For the reason that I cannot peruse the time,

I will seize grimly and make it into mine.