Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  37 / 238 Next Page
Information
Show Menu
Previous Page 37 / 238 Next Page
Page Background

37

You’ve chosen the path for the land of night.

The desert is made of ice there

And the stars die of boredom.

Stretch out your arms and dig,

Dust will be your bread,

You’ll swallow our tears.

Go now, go, and don’t return.

If you hear the stones wailing,

The letters of your name are being engraved.

_____