Our backs are to the cypress.
We are hiding the mountains behind our houses.
We are ashamed to see the star.
We hurry to the commotion of the streets
so that our hearts won’t be confused
by open spaces.
And so we live
in closed rooms,
in streets belted by telephone and telegraph wires.
It is so far from all that we loved innocently.
On the other side of ourselves, we live
in our times.
translated by Ramah Commanday