Sol 5.6

  1. We sat inscribing our dreams

    upon the sand—then the lines were erased.

  2. We sat greeting the blossoms of the gardens,

    that the heart, in its joy, might blossom.

  3. We arrived, but found nothing but illusion

    in a land that may reveal its barrenness.

  4. Pitch-dark depths among life's shadows—

    death is there, whether manifest or merely looming.

  5. We bore the oppression of our days;

    but can one who endures be master of his judgment?

  6. We concealed the doings of this age,

    though laying bare its faults would be more fitting.

  7. We dwelt in a land whose harvest is ingratitude

    for every writer who rises within it.

  8. O our bough, blossoming across the land,

    answer me—tell me, when will you bear fruit?

Sol 5.6