When we are thirsty, we drink the white waters of the pool, the sweetness of our mournful childhood.

Earlier lives drift by on silver soles, and the shadows of the damned descend into these sighing waters.

Frost and smoke. A white shirt of stars burns your worn-out shoulders, and God's vultures tear at your metallic heart.

I drink because I'm thirsty.

The blue of my eyes is extinguished in this night, the red gold of my heart.

I drank the silence of God from a spring in the woods.