The martyr couldn't believe his eyes
when his tomb was bombed
as he braided a garland for his beloved—
a red garland,
yet...on the way to heaven...
it turned white.
He bent toward the water with a small rainbow clutched in his hand.
In this way he makes music.
He lifts is hands to the clouds and braids her tears into a flower.
In this way he sings.
A wave breaking outside the sea.
In this way I go on.