Like the sphinx you too it looks, 'appears
where once upon a time
and time seemed clear, 'because my face
not from above the weather of your yellow rain
hollowed are the lines upon my red dry face
calloused but from years of hand blown sand.
Where I sit the zenith fronts me on all sides
and though it be it is
twice as long as that went by, before she comes again.
Obsidian portals on each side are seen from space
and true intent
as mortal) wo(man becomes more moral, while I slept.
And I am but what you are you say your never naught.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem