The lest soon becomes the first,
to behold the face of you, ungrieved.
Our balns burnt while we farmed,
soberly we mourned from the rough
way to your den labouring for money.
ářìğő is a labourer in lanes of life.

Your face is calm, Night, the dreaded
My mind could not ponder the outcomes
nor my eyes yearning to see the secrets
or the serrated footprints upon the grasses.
Night comes like the sea’s crescent by evening.
A name does not make a thing, things are named.

I died a thousand times and I cease to die .
The tall trees and the savannah are bare ,
sprouting unnoticed by the red ones who
walk the night and steals from the unpossesed.
Bruised beaten broke bones , turn flesh and heart.
Blessed is the uninitiated, free like a bird, a prey.

The red ones are the thieves who daunt me,
with the night they casted me dumbfounded.
seeking to take away, polluting serene nightness.
daily escape is away from the night, bad omen.
Thrilling boots till thou looses his own soul
unconscious of home.

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