Из альбома: Pre-Human Ideas

If I look
or if I don’t look
clouds are always passing over
the place I live.
The place I live
passing under
my feet while my mind wanders
in a sea of fog.
On a ridge
seeing through a hole in the fog
(«A thought out of nowhere comes passing through»)
I say to myself
(«I say to myself, like a voice on the wind»)
«Behold»
but I see nothing.
Rocks and water and wood
not speaking to me.
(«wanderer above the sea of fog»)
I mean the place lives
and clouds pass over
(«sitting on a ridge and watching clouds pass over»)
the landscape
a blanket on stone
(«where an ocean of glaciers rolled»)
Land waves are rolling.
(«Through a fog, this is a brief life.»)
(«Short and cold, momentarily.»)
(«A life as brief as the morning fog»)
Momentarily,
I come out from under.
credits

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