O goddess of priests,
in punishing myself
I found you today.
Tonight you will sleep
in my eyes,
and I will search my
lost poems.
Did you touch the
faded leaves to bring back
a withered spring?
A song still waits in the throat of a cuckoo.
The wasted years!
Do you hear me, walking
in sleep on burning coals as
a penance for the world
going wrong.?
What did I do? I ask my
past, my present, my unhappened future?