Psalm 9


O rose beyond the reach of time and of the senses
O kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the winds
Surprise me with one dream
That my madness will recoil from you
Recoiling from you
In order to approach you
I discovered time
Approaching you
In order to recoil form you
I discovered my senses
Between approach and recoil
There is a stone the size of a dream
It does not approach
It does not recoil
You are my country
A stone is not what I am
Therefor I do not like to face the sky
Not do I die level with the ground
But I am a stranger, always a stranger


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Psalm 9