The morning sun that smiles

​A trace of sun, and eyes
​no longer cover the clouds.
​Days and weeks pass into dust.
​And what of my nostalgic home?

​Is it waiting for the coming
​of the northern wind –
​to shape the grass or trees?
​Or a soft goddess, to wet the tongue.-
​over the warm rays of the sun?

​I am in no rush, and everything
​soon will be built.
​Then, my bones will shine
​and I will reach the ocean.
No longer sitting in loneliness.

​I will say to you –
​one must go to the place where
​the grasshoppers are hard to catch.
​And blood no longer just flows,
​but circulates, like an event
​in the sky.

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