Editing Gnome Poem

Naturally it is night.

Under the overturned lute with its

One string I am going my way

Which has a strange sound.


This way the dust, that way the dust.

I listen to both sides

But I keep right on.

I remember the leaves sitting in judgment

And then winter.


I remember the rain with its bundle of roads.

The rain taking all its roads.

Nowhere.


Young as I am, old as I am,


I forget tomorrow, the blind man.

I forget the life among the buried windows.

The eyes in the curtains.

The wall

Moving through the immortal realms.

I forget silence

The owner of the smile.


This must be what I wanted to be doing,

Walking at night between the two deserts,

Singing