I come from that ocean
Who doesn't know
To capture that sunny Island
The distance is a tide
And in my green hands
The people of love
In little baskets of mournful wishes
Take the blue pearls
To the shore of darkness
And at nights
In their houses of no windows
They listen to the sound of an innocent, silent cry
That from beyond the grieving clouds
Wails for the sun
Ah, you the migratory pictures
That your wet sinful steps
Have infected the everlasting witness land
And your narrowed thinking
Spreads the smell of the night
In the fresh air of every morning
Like the holy azan
And your bed at nights
Every night
With the magic of a green belief
Becomes empty from fear of morning's nightmares
And as you pass the empty lanes of love
With an axe of love
You behead the love, you behead the love
Today will be times past, tomorrow
On this everlasting witness land
Ah, I come from your land
You the holy in white
That your hand let go of the book of chaste dreams
In that strange air
When the yard of your house became full of shadows
Of nightmares and chaste dreams
And the garden of little flowers
With that tall leafless tree
Closed his eyes at you
And the helplessness of your mother's hand
Cried, cried, cried…
And suddenly your head exploded
With the chaste dreams
In that dark bed
In that bed spread with tall poisonous thorns
In that bed of no rising
To the everlasting no awakening
Everlasting sleep
Ah, I am coming from your land
From those narrow talebearer lanes
Those shadows of nightmares
That still infect the everlasting witness land
