The silence... Listen, my child, to the silence. An undulating silence, a silence that turns valleys and echoes slippery, bends foreheads toward the ground...

You can see them from the railings
on the mount,
the mount,
the mount,
mules and shadows of mules
carrying sunflower seed.

Their eyes in the shady places,
cloud over with huge night.
The salty dawn is rustling
in river bends of breeze.

a sky of white mules
closes its quicksilver eyes,
making the calm penumbra
a resting place for hearts.
And the water turns cold
so no one will touch it.
Wild, uncovered water
on the mount,
the mount,
the mount...