Elegy
He is sitting on a hilla vapid night is crawling through the valethe trees are fangs of transiencythe demons forge hammers and nails
he will travel all the waysthat lead to the unknown landstime has distorted his viewan amen in his due
he is gazing at the skieswithout yearning in his eyesand he will follow the invisible tracewhen the sirens sing again...
the spring is in the air, the silence in the skiesthe wind is in his hair, the moon is in his eyesthe bats play on but he'll be gonebefore the world has left the night
...the birds sing on but he has gonebefore the morning spreads its light