In this strange red shell egg
Nestled discreetly a bit more on the left side, in my body,
I have assembled crowds of people I loved.
I gathered here, too – sometimes frantically, sometimes slowly –
A little from the beauty of this world.
Things are all stuck together now,
In a sweet joint property –
The strong scent
Of clouds hidden behind angels
Is mixed with the perfume of the grass
On which I am lying down –
Always with my arm covering my forehead and eyes,
Not to be hurt by the blue colour.
But, for some time, I have found out anxiously
That nothing else can be stuffed into my heart now.
Only the wind, only the wind
Sneaks inside me
Like a glass snake.