I had dreamt of a magic, a mere thing
Waiting to become a mere thing
Just like a rock of inorganic cells
A few chromosomes carry all memories
Of my primordial world, of giant-sized eggs
You see I have invented a reed bringing forth
The finest smelling finger hole music,
Smelling of oil-lamp flames extinguishing
In ancient temples behind closed doors.
I have invented golden- robed gods smiling
In flower decked finery, with vermilion
On my forehead where it is all written.
I have invented half-burnt corpses flowing,
In flames, on fragrant heaven-promises
This morning the reed vanished abruptly
In the fragrance of the river’s shadows.
