SHE IS AN ANGLER IN THE FAST TRACK

When we spree in the speed spirit
without speed sense
none cares for the width of the way.
Then, the only impetus
is to turn into abstract
All shapes,including trees and buildings nearby.
This car race is an impulse to transform
all into an illusion.

A big way,
with exact width and length,
and with rules
that keep your legs and hands in,
comes flying, plucking away caution signals.
Then we stop this speed race,
seeing the nightmare of a desert
with uprooted roots,
where only the hot wind blows.

Amidst the speed race,
being indulged in the speed spirits,
and freed from natural forces,
we recall her who told tales
of roads which were ready to zig-zag
for the trees and paddyfields .