We have on this earth what makes life worth living: April's hesitation, the aroma of bread at dawn, a woman's point of view about men, the works of Aeschylus, the beginning of love, grass on a stone, mothers living on a flute's sigh and the invaders' fear of memories.
This peace will leave us as a cluster of dust...
Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.
And I say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.