The Fleeting Moment

The fleeting moment when my poetry forms
the fleeting moment I love
the fleeting moment when I stare into burning flames
propping up my chin on my hands, dyeing my face golden
that fleeting moment when barley
is boiling in a pot for tomorrow
in my pitch-dark cookhouse –
does it come down from heaven?
or am I burning along with the flames?
Quick rhythms, dancing and lilting
oooooh
in the crimson brilliance
my crown is being forged

束の間

束の間