986: Who Am I, Without Exile? – Part Two
Poem By Catastrophe KING
The water still binds me to your name; and
nothing takes me away from the butterflies of dream!
Nothing gives me reality: neither dust, nor fire.
What shall I do without the roses of Samarkand?
What shall I do in a square, where moonstones are
worn smooth by singers?
We have become weightless,
as light as our dwellings in the swirling winds!
We have, both of us, befriended the strange beings in the clouds.
We have both been freed from the gravity of the land of identity.
What shall we do? What shall we do without exile?
And, long nights of gazing at the water?