Black S

My Kandora, you wander solemnly.
I linger,
I owe – what?
A hundred tides!

I'll wait, I know that
I'm native here.

My Kandora, your blood runs faster.
I linger
I owe – what?

My Kandora, the finest pellicle,
My loning.
I owe what?
A hundred tides!

I'll stay , I know that I'm native here.
I linger,
I owe what?

I wonder why.