my body like a bugle
I listen
to the sea ruling unsettled sand
to the sky sticking to earth like a mellow pumpkin
with all its seeds
far and away
high over this mud
gathered under the soles big as a mountain
there is my country ...
the place where I can put my finger on warm bread
on the star from the stag’s front
on the bell’s rope in the old church
from sunset towards sunrise
me too I become whiter
deep into my bones
along with this only sun
always full circle
bound to be turning around my house
as if it were the world’s beginnings
one of my few patriotic poems...i always loved my land and pined for my country