I don't have answers to the wind that pulls open the door,
I have lusts that drown themselves in sleep.
In my forgetfulness, the water could mirror itself,
and the tree could become innocent from the habit of the branches and send its leaves in the evening mail.
0 patient wind
take the sawdust of the door and go.
There are no answers
There are terrified rabbits here falling in whiteness as delight flows in the body.
translated by: Bassam Frangieh