The buried city, laid bare to the sun of a new age, is ashamed that it has lost all its songs.
Like my heart’s pain that has long missed its meaning, the sun’s rays robed in dark hide themselves under the ground.
Like my heart’s pain at love’s sudden touch, they change their veil at the spring’s call and come out in the carnival of colours, in flowers and leaves.
My life’s empty flute waits for its final music like the primal darkness before the stars came out.
Emancipation from the bondage of the soil is no freedom for the tree.
The tapestry of life’s story is woven with the threads of life’s ties ever joining and breaking.
The thoughts of mine that are never captured by words perch upon my songs and dance.
My soul tonight loses itself in the silent heart of a tree standing alone among the whispers of immensity.