You will not define
Hubris, walking on the
velvety rugs of ancient beliefs.

Living in my poems,
made for cherry blossoms.

In spite of half
sins, mounds of rose petals
of every color were strewn
on the way, to reach
the drunken gods.

There was no point
of vindication for making
water tainted green when glaciers
were burning red.

Delta,
the fourth letter of
Greek alphabet, has lost
its shape. The rivers
have stopped flowing to seas.