Little brother wind, you, brother
Who beats time without death
Take me the second that holds me
Without death.
In the daytime, the longing is killing me
Heavy like the millstones,
And death revives me
With large flowers of insomnia.
Come, give me the horse to arrive
Where I once was a baby,
To drink the drinking water
Where my mother gave birth to me.
Only some three days
to go, and then
I will come back
To you, brother.
The longing in me cuts wood
And it always signals to me
To climb again on the porch
And to tap on the window with a flower
To cast just a glance
Where my father as a bridegroom
Put his hand on a fantasy
With the world at the buttonhole.