I feel gloomy
About home
which is my past and present cage and all its mud-bricks are maintained on my pains, sweet and bitter memories.
I escape.
I run to the road.
Which is like a sleeping snake, putting its head at the city bedside and its feet are on the lap of mountain and farmland.
I am running
Alone
Ineffectual
No lights burn in the horizon, to illuminate ahead and the landscape
No dust rises
To have a rider following after!
I seek refuge to the plain and the mountain
There is no freshness
No springs gush
No plants grow
No flowers blossom
No birds sing and no breeze blows
I pass the mountains, reaching the sea.
The lighthouse is off.
The seaside is full of the wreckage of the boats from unsuccessful voyages.
The waves are still restless, beating themselves to the seaside
No waves taking the lost to the seaside!
I shout
I am gloomy
It is unlikely to be a city behind the seas which its sky has a different color and its earth from different material.
Again I shout
I am gloomy
My voice reaches nowhere
I only hear the reflection of my voice, losing around me.
I run
Along the night,
Along the beach,
With the impatient waves.
I run and shout
Consequently, I read the ending of the night, the ending of the seaside.
I stand at the border of the morning.
Exactly at the zero-point of the frontier.
I stand and shout
I want to know:
How will tomorrow rise?
And from which direction will you come to our earth?
And how will the earth be in front of you?
And what color will the sky be?
And eventually, how will the life start again?
