He opens the windows of his head
God recedes into the distance,
Becomes a dry cloud.

He opens the windows of his heart
God approaches,
Brushes against the eyelashes,
And inside saddened eyes
Lights the lantern
And stays awake.

The Samaritan

Between the nail and the cross
The body of the world.

From a cloud
The Samaritan always descends
A jar on his shoulder,
A loaf of bread in his hand,
And in his voice
A pillow and a bandage.

Sun Always Rises

At night here
The sun lights the Caucuses
At night in the Caucuses
The sun lights Alaska
At night in Alaska
The sun lights the Himalayas
At night in the Himalayas
The sun lights Olympus
At night in Olympus
The sun lights Sanine

At night
The sun always rises

A Flower

From the bottom
Of a pond in the wilderness
A flower rises,
Beneath the sun
On the pond’s surface
The eyelashes unfold
An island for the bees

Peace of Mind

From bay leaves and basil
the gentle breezes
From the water sources in the rugged land
the trickling streams
From the threshing floors of the sun
the sunbeams
From the hands of the soil
the roses

Far away from the gasps of chimneys
and the fume clouds
Here in these mountains
he cooks roots
and dresses in greenery.

Between Village and City

Long ago
there was travel.
Provisions for the road were the rooster’s crow
The birds of the twilight haze
The walking stick by day
The bonfire by night

And now
In the carts of steel
And the plumes of speed
The senses’ leaves have withered
The body’s windows are closed


Hungry bodies
Not one wheat stalk.
Thirsty bodies,
Not even the whisper of water.
Naked bodies,
Not a single leaf on the fig tree.
Cold bodies,
Not a log in the hearth.

From the windows of the satellite:
Dust battering the stars.


In the darkness of valleys
the streams glimmer
In the darkness of roots
the fruit shines
In the darkness of caves
the lantern flashes
In the darkness of wounds
the hymn sparkles