The electronic eye now aims
at every movement.
Its beam which should be purple
shines green on my face.

Purple and green are as poisonous as the questions:
what used to stop me from sleeping?
Why are my temples greyer
and wiser?

I know the beam pierces my field of vision
as if my eyes
must search implicitly the wisdom in certain things,
that drip from the rain in the drop of stars
- when one must either pump or drown -
close to the electronic eye of the needle
through which my camel will soon have to pass.

Translation: John Stevens Wade