My wind blows; from the new-born desert,
Only sand flies; increases unaccepted thirst.
I return carrying tent in the tired crowd of port,
What a surprise! It delights dogs, gardens, avenues,
I have heard a scented flower in the ceremony,
Seeing with pained earnestness; so many flowers,
I couldn’t recognize.
Knowing any innocent star has its light,
Where do you want to fly dove? Dream-walker in vain!
Like a foreigner among unknown greeters,
When I have to walk to the unknown!
