Not thinking, not complaining, not fighting for,
And have no sleep.
Not longing to the sun, or to the moon, or to the shore,
Or to the ship.
Not feeling how it¡¯s hot within these precincts,
How it is green behind the door.
So long desired and expected present
Not waiting more.
Not glad of morning, of tram¡¯s clinking ring,
Of creaking gate.
I¡¯m living without days, forgetting
Time and date.
I¡¯m little rope-walker, balancing with stick
Who seems to fall down soon.
I¡¯m shadow of the shadow. I am lunatic
Of two dark moons.
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