U sjenovitu zoru prije deset dana,
u kričanju jutarnjih galebova i jesenjoj kiši,
netom izlivenog sna po prvi put u sto godina uzeo sam olovku i
na suvišnom hotelskom papiru zapisao prvo što je došlo a to je otprilike:
Felt your lips last night, again,
on a pathway less traveled.
Rich, and sweet, excruciatingly brief -
As we felt that we are not to be seen.
I did not know when day came to relief
Was it the past, the future, or nothing in between.