DEPARTURE
I know a village named Departure.
It was once called Haven,
Or more accurately, they used to,
For no one calls it that anymore.
There,
No language is spoken,
No day breaks,
No doors open, no courtyards,
And no chimneys stand.
There,
Only ruins of houses
That look like crooked mouths
With broken and fallen teeth.
There,
No living thing is felt,
No rooster crows,
No dog barks,
No bee buzzes.
There,
In the pastures where cows grazed,
Not even dung remains.
There,
No human foot
Has stepped for a long time,
It resembles a small, lifeless planet.
There,
Strangely, only the graves multiply,
And plaques with endless births and deaths.
There,
Like from a legend, came in autumn
A girl named Light,
To be walled in,
To remind us once more
Of the lament of this departure.
There are no births,
No deaths there,
There are only burials.
I know a village named Departure.