let the grey plains of Imtahleb
Be one whole giant
Slice of bread
Let me begin to gnaw in early dusk
And thus continuing
Till the first stars, the moon
And
As mid-night edges its way
Hunger and appetite
Grow and
Only recoil
Before the break of Dawn.
And the First Lights
And early waters drunk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem