In its loneliness the nightsky

thought,

Why these stars?

Why this voice humming in my heart of darkness?

When the voices recede

what's left

but oppression gnawing at my soul?

If the Pole Star moves one second from its place,

does the fisherman lose his way?

Does the shepherd forget his whistle?

Perhaps nothing,

nothing, can alter the truth of me.

I am earth's dream.

A sleeper ending his sleep

will see when he wakes,

real darkness beyond.

© translated by Ruth Christie