Some time I am in the place,
But not with the person.
Sometimes, I am with a person,
But not in the place, and not with the people.
Some times, the people I love are far away,
And some are dead, and some will die,
And I will die.
And some times, just sometimes
I am in the place, with polyamorphous spirit,
Unable to change the course of time,
And my love is like a ripple in the water,
And no one can hear its echos in eternity.
On the slopes of the sour-city, along the red-lined skies,
Toward the ancient depth of mountains, the rumble
of a broad earthwake is heard. The echoes of wind
sweep overhead, and in the tunnels all imagination
is a-loose. The four veterans of fear, guilt and shame
are taking their mind to new places; in spite of each,
the beggar witch’s curse is here. So, we buried the ashes
of some dream, we found new images in the dark halls.