When I go up the hill I see dusk fall behind the sun leaving and our hope that we are returning
And on a stoning of stones above the hillside as it tries to embrace the sky
I stood meditating, looking in every direction, washing my head with the desert sunset breezes, and resting from escaping.
Now my vision touches everything
Touch the light and taste the air
I left reality, dreams, happy and sad homes, angry faces and bribe hands
Now I don't need water, food, or women
I didn't care anymore
I became like the stones of my stoning, but my soul could not take on the stones, so I wore them like my smile
Then I felt counting water
I almost said that I moved to the world of nothingness, that I was born in a state of waiting until I killed waiting
Or maybe life is awakening from sleep
When I felt nihilism, I saw the sky, the earth, drought, and fertility in the color of the afternoon. I saw him as the color of loneliness in the bodies and the white, black, and wheat skin of the faces, and it was the color of my blood.
So we became souls without bodies
Or the color of nothingness in the sky with a dark depth, or like the condensation of sky clouds
And the rumble of thunder, the cries of a murdered child in his father's lap on the corner of the homeland
The clouds are the tears of the bereaved. The outward appearance of nihilism is emptiness, but its inwardness is blood
Everything that exists is nothing but passes into nihilism
So do I look for existence, heat, or even suffering
Or do I bring back memories and stories of my village