From a black overcoat lightly filled
Her pale neck lines are flowing.
Down the egg-shaped symmetry rising above them,
Rich tangent lines of her long hair hang freshly.

Her body, the head drooping a little,
Is being pressed tenderly by certain unknown forces,
While her hard shoulders are still sheltered by childhood.

Her life, which has already opened in anxiety,
Calls to her, with all her expectations.
Her eyes are so bright
Between what has been done already and
What has not yet started.