Such crimson space
And smile inside,
Such crimson cupboard
With flow in tide,
And wings are scattered everywhere,
I cry and look for star,
The star which looks like little hare.
Such crimson dot
And little, very little cot,
The cot is flying as within,
I look for space which is not so crimson but serene.
I wish for luck,
Again in space this crimson muddy rug!
I want to have a different, better tug!