If not doomed, not forbidden, not sinister
Must be daring, must be danger, must be dire
Even if you ended in wonder
Having no idea of these aisle
...
It is dead quiet here.
It is dark.
And it is scary.
...
Miracle of grace
That I love and chase
For a hug, a touch
To reach and to clutch
...
Now I envisioned often our valley and our homes
At the bottom of the hill that has not a blade of grass
Not a plant or not a tree,
Not a single human face.
...
He had known
That the music of your feet
That the rhythm of your steps
He would seek on every street
...
Therefore, darling, take my hand,
Throw your sandals in the sand,
Let us run against the sun,
To the pleasures of the rays
...
Our names
Are less known, by each day,
To the towns we’re born
Across devastated lands
...
Every morning, I feel tired, to go down through the steps
Tired even if it means just to reach the escalator
Drown to a total frazzle, like a man that never slept
Enough lately. There I toss the drained, carton coffee cup.
...
And when he had arrived it appeared as if the night
Was simply a woman that gave birth
Leaving him there, all alone
Like a child
...
Eating, sliced, watermelon
That we bought from the stand,
In a lovely slow motion,
From her fingers, from her hand,
...