What is it after, our soul? thrashing against the
boundless patience of the sea?
even when the wind blows,
it doesn’t cool us and the shade under the
cypress trees is weighed down by time.

What is it after, our soul? holding pines in
our chest, we set out to view the broken statues.
we heard they were on beautiful islands
somewhere near here

What is it after? in a country that is no longer ours,
I slept with the green wrapped around me like
a fern as you spoke softly -
it is difficult to find the meaning to your life,
but it is still allowed.