May be from the pivot of our eyes
The Nile goes into the sea, indeed
But Nile itself knows there is no sea
Nile goes and goes farther
And in the sea Nile goes through

If you saw a basket over the nameless waters
You would pick it
Pick it and smell the history
You will find my words of kindness and affection
inside it
Which continuously give birth to a newly-born child
A little voyager with a rod

I am windily spreading
Out of my feelings and my death
The dream which comes by
Beyond the gates of my sight
Later again and ages
The blurred vision of whom gives a glance
In the intrinsically turbulent wine
Just for a second
And everything dies
I am thy me as wine is vines'