She was lying on her side... and me
Conjured this evening casting my own shadow
Into the colt blood, as the birds dreamt
From scene, the blood, the bird
The distance gets wider, but my mother was
The primal sister of the mud.
There, the place where I saw her before my birth
In an unknown rainy land...
That story fades, vanishes from the stage.
The one who was awakened in the dream... and
Her songs! Was it heard at least once?
My mother didn't have that memory
So, I created this souvenir in my
Deep sleep - on the wings of forgetfulness,
As the rivers never remember the happenings.
But whatever I recall, or I don't
Wouldn't be important at all
I didn't have any talk with
My mother 'bout what I've just told
She was in the moving cloud
She was lying in the side scene... and I
Created this sadness in the hidden life
Mistakenly trusting someone else's presence
like the shells.
So, the tear, too, knew more about
Agriculture - like my mother, the eldest sister of crops