people as weary as machines
yawn so wide they weep
from sleepiness you tumble in

the way I keep needing to take a step
in the snow caught in a caravan
beneath tall moss-green trees

and in meltwater
a deep spirit needs a great deal of earth
just like a well

if I keep what I have
between my thighs I follow
the tracks of my tears

and the dust on my cheeks
I grab him hungrily
by the buttocks I possess

the seed already in my thoughts
I stay standing

Translation: Michele Hutchinson