One day I will tell you
how two blind people
walked towards each other,
how they met in the desert,
walked together for a while
and then parted…
The sun was blazing
on the rustling lizards.

Each of them thought:
It is not me who is lost.
Not me. No. No.
I could not let go of him.
I could not let go of her.
It is him.
It is her.
Abandoned me;
Abandoned me.
Me who is helpless, lonesome,
played, lied to.
He is sighted, not blind,
She could, she
could see
how I worn out I am,
bending under heavy load,
how I am stumbling.
I am stumbling.
He is watching, watching.
She is watching.
Awaiting my death, my death,
waiting to get hold of my soul—my soul.

It is water and nourishment—
water and nourishment,
a human soul in the desert.

Water and nourishment.
Hasten, hurry up,
get away from here.
Get away...

The night sun was burning.
The shadow of another traveler
would cross the path of those two.
Disembodied, restless
herds of ghosts were passing by.

And those two, lonesome,
considering themselves still alive
would embrace each other for the last time.
They embraced each other with rustling voices,
promised something,
then bade farewell to each other.

Each imagined another voice
which in the darkness sounded like light.
They heard it boiling in the leaves
when their hands let go of one another.
The scent of sun was roasting and singing.

What can two blind ones create while sleep walking?
Loneliness—just one more loneliness—

I will tell and my tale will be very long,

how they were wandering
not aware that long time ago
they became shadows of each other,
their shadows came together as one…

I will tell this story endlessly,
but you, please, do not listen.