Those days have gone
Right through the cool airs
Like a bird in dawns of a summer.
Sitting on a pavilion by the pitch
My heart fitted with echoes of colleagues;
And any sight of their dull bloom faces…
The joyful, sorrowful days become
Then I, left with nothing
But a wish of antiquity
To have them back
To correct the sins, celebrate the joyful days we had together,
And break the orgasm of being an alumnus.