When I die, I will see the lining of the world
The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset
The true meaning, ready to be decoded
What never added up will add up
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended
And if there is no lining to the world?
If a thrush on a branch is not a sign
But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day
Make no sense following each other?
And on this earth there is nothing except this earth?
Even if that is so, there will remain
A word wakened by lips that perish
A tireless messenger who runs and runs
Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies
And calls out, protests, screams