Thursday, May 15, 2014


Only a fool would cling to the sweet and curse the salt
embracing Aphrodite, forgetting her birth from salt.

Ocean water will burn your eyes and throat, they say,
but trust me, bitter regrets sting far worse than salt.

Give me storm and afterward rainbow, I accept
tears as a fitting price for the mirth of salt.

What do I care for any caravan of treasure?
Give me one piece of meat, bread and a purse of salt.

Deep-rooted trees reach up and breathe in the air.
God gives what I need: stone, water, earth and salt.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

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