The world begins to tremble unevenly,
In my eyes, vision falls upon the screen, // up and down,
White noise, black ink spots, // and spaces —
Between characters in Roman type, // pristine.
The movements, shifts, // right front of my eyes.
It should remain silent, // fall, down, quietly,
Like that striped woolen coat // on the chair,
It kept not standing tall // without the touch.

The page edge disappears roundly,
In this hurried, chaotic sway // of his melody.
Being worn away, // or perhaps it shouldn't be called music,
Just movements at play.
Certainly being seen, // only enduring in silence,
Repeatedly without end, anyway.
The edge outside the screen is cut, // the sharp edge,
Slightly compressed, // deformed in bend,
Yet on the white wall,
The traces of light lines // can still be clearly observed.

A white flame within the black noise, // jumping up and down,
Is a declaration that comes // with life from the inanimate,
Inorganic, non-renewable, // natural world.
The firelight illuminates you and my face, // just quietly watching,
Then chaos occurs in everything that happens,
Growing as it grows.

Seeing words float before our faces,
Passing by our sides, // in our hearts.
Not forbidden to find one's own declaration,
Nor wanting to just whisper // in your mind.
I want to see the world here,
In all its glory, great, plain.