On the window glass, Moon breaks into cold pieces, Sudden taps of noisy wind play Domestic music all the night. We do have some Dialogues of our conjugal ceremony As lyrics, and some Regular soliloquies of awakened eyes. They roll down gradually From the bedside table To the cashmere carpet on the floor. Embroidered daisies and doves, Mock our innocence there. As we are black, and blank, like The moonless sky above the Dead Sea. A sea where fishes do not live, To celebrate this Unbearable heaviness of reality.