Does this woman belong to us?
Because she dances like us
As if she were one of us.
In the language of her arms I hear
Something familiar.
Her rust-colored hair—I know it.

It reminds me of someone special
A person from the shores of
The thousand-year-old sea
Origin of the poem of long arrival

I danced with her on childhood photos
In another life
When night and day did not yet exist
38 souls away

That time passed
Only to return again
The blood of that time is here
In the words of that moment

Shake the rust-colored hair
Like leaves from branches in autumn
Between sun and mist
Where dreams turned into whispers

In the voice of a good time
This time belongs to us—
Just like her.
With the rust-colored hair.