Horses’ neighing at the slope. Downward or upward …
The night that began in your eyes- .
Lighter we both have
become, like our homes in the distant winds. We have
both become friends with the clouds’
strange creatures; outside the reach of the gravity
of the Land of Identity. What are we to do, then . . . What
are we to do without exile, without a long night...
staring at the water?
Once upon a time
Ho, the silence of dusk.
In the morning my moon migrated to a far place….
Towards those honey-colored eyes,
we were born again…