You are not alive and you do not fade. Never will your goblets receive a ray of sun, a bee, her buzzing. Even if the sun floods you with rivers of light, even if the wind brings from the desert the samum,* you remain indifferent, mute, untouchable, unreachable. Cold gods! Only the dust, the gray dust, bows down your heads, the gaudy ones. *A hot, dry desert wind.
Translated by Barnett Zumoff
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