“If it weren’t for the church towers”
Old villagers would say
“the sky would crumble upon us
With none of in-betweens
But all the far-a-ways”
“Who are you”, asks the shadow,
“to claim the ownership of me as your right?”
The light kept silent
As the shadow grew louder and longer
Towards the night.
The pastures and the waters,
The sky in starry night.
Oh, mountains of amazing,
Oh, rivers of delight!…
Goodbye, balcony, rampart of mine,
And you, flocks of limousines
Grazing the asphalt on my soul!
Somewhere a trail writes its testament
On the back of a run-away sheep.
…And the moon, up there, solemn and bright
Like an Easter sermon.