When I am again just soil, against your palms.
I trust the though your hems are wet and muddy.
How you console your selves with rain and words,
I can no longer care.
The space above has filled below with simple peace.
And those documents now too dry you,
while I made this circle now here you stand a coven.
Now you can be less and more than I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it. I don't understand it perfectly; but I think that's what gives it such a charm..(smile)