The ceiling of the sky and
Fly to the beyond they ask.
And the Seagull says, as
The sun paints the evening
With its hesitant red-
About the new lovers across
The river that can no longer
Talk with their eyes.
And about the dreamy wanderer
In search of a shelter, lost
On trails of rugged grass.
The messenger of God astray,
In search of feeble prayers
In the dark hearts.
And the old woman worried
About her wool not passing
The eye of the needle.
Then the aged cattle, hungry cats
And the redundant dogs
Suffering the same misery.
The Seagull says-
When I'm the hesitant lover,
I'm the dreamy wanderer.
When I'm the messenger
And even the dark heart.
The cattle, the dog, and the cat.
When I'm the unsung, unable to
Find my song in my own land.
What are the chances beyond?
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