A soul growing cold

I crossed a great cosmos in his sea

I showed him the soul beginning from a shadow.

What was thought to be blood-filled sea and earth was emptiness.

In emptiness the world stirring.

Now I am wingless.

Waves have sucked up the blood that flowed from a cut.

I will show him a soul growing cold.

And sleep in darkness,

not waiting for a mother

or to become a child.

© translated by Ruth Christie

by Bejan Matur

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