2015年05月06日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 159th. week

Hazy in spring, enigmatic it's, a contour line over there.
To feel a little tipsy, a badger blows to play, sounds from alto saxophone.
A window cleaner, to cry for, at the chapel to repent his love affairs. Or, a window cleaner to cry for, colours of the chapel to repent.
For his master never comes, to creak and wait, a wheelchair does.
To be scolded, only a face of an old broad, to be heavy handed. Or, to be scolded, only a face of an old broad, to exist.

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