1(1) = Page 1 (Verse 1)
Glorification was first say, clean first intent, service first wish,
the friendly morning sun rose, delirious was the core self that searched.
Longing was the seed of love, sadness the balance of restlessness, the
tongue the psyche of voice,
from the ancient heart the store of belongings asking the soul;
until the core was the search, until the root was the digging, between lost
and found, dreaming or awake, the restlessness of human history;
tracing the path of return, preparing the path of coming, the soul was the
navigator.
This is the sheet, crumpled and ignored, the most difficult tear.
(5.2.2004)1(2)
Everything restless, the world and weather in black roll.
Scratches of winks, quakes of lightning and red ember
between them the dance of sand vapors of an era hot torturing;
in fright the polite breath of quivering quarrel peak, searching
everything - the restlessness of the sky and valleys, the hardened dates
seeds,
the camels' skeletons, the swords' rust marking the drop of blood clot.
This was the face of an era angrily hot wild cut the breath full of
worries,
the voice of tired yells quakes of lightning of animals in doubt. (5.2.2004)
1(3)
Foot soles cracked here, memories twinkled a twilight or two,
recollections are always unfocused. Sands of era of amber started
sprinkling odours and dusts from yesteryears, from all prejudices.
Happiness was not a tale of the sons of Adam choosing the world.
Masses
of clouds were too far, pale and weary. The rush of wind was eerily
torturing.
caravan silent burned by anger within the waves of sand dunes.
The camels nodded, tins knocking, every eye holding a secret.
Happiness was not the tale. A while equivalent were the animals and
humans. (29.4.2004)
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