I will
wander the corners of the wheat in the wee hours of dawn, and then warm my boat
and my glowing islands and the shirt of the brown horizon for a joyful tomorrow. I will give you a song you have never heard
before. I carry it on my shoulder with the leftover bamboo.
When I met
you in your absence far away, and you sat me down on that white hill, I was so
amazed that I sailed strangely at your whisper. You are a cup blessed with
wisdom. You looked a lot like the pink turtle whose shell the children of my
village ate.
You told me
about the houses that the ancients built in their alleys. You told me that my
eyes are no longer shining.
Come near,
come near, I am those falling meteors in the courtyards of paradise. Come closer, come closer, hear my voice.
How I wish I could write my name in the absence
early because the day has become scary.
