The sunset in the corner of her eyes,
Her silhouettes spill over the courtyard,
Quietly they all show up at a stone’s throw,
All of her red tulips twist at a yard.
Her fingers would stroke them tomorrow,
The ink of night smudges the floor,
The enchantress rises by the door,
The incense sticks lit the foot of the dusk.
That smell tickles in the nose,
The fairies of a day dart into deep caves,
The clouds nestle on the black grasses,
The invisible walls around us,
But ears still wait to listen to the voice
So soft and warm.
Moving images beneath the corneal river,
Still, one prayer that incites faith in us,
Love, which binds us forever.