When your soul returns to Ras Dashen many years from now,

Time will stop to acknowledge your final descent.

Time will give no pardon.  Time will take no vow.

As a child again, you will walk through the land.

At the mountain foot olive trees are the same;

They were guarding your peace from below and above.

When the world seemed unfair – this is where you came,

This is where you...

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My dreams locked behind

A thousand doors,

My genuine voice,

Life without remorse.

Self-portrait that’s free

Of the wrinkled despair,

Rhetorical questions

Of how and where.

Whimsical, drunken

Scent of the hope,

A love letter

Burnt in the last envelope.

I stepped on this land

And time ceased to exist.

Since then I had wondered

Whose image it is.

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