BRIDGE

There a bridge hangs
on the dividing line
and rivers of this world flow beneath
towards time or on Neruda's incarnations
How can it be that I can not write
about one river of this nature
and how can they low down the flow
of a mighty river
to one dry land of one artificial mansion
there in the green forest rivers flow
and I see one Kalindi
there you ask me to write
about rivers and the mighty oceans
and me listen now to you and your flute
and Neruda forgive them
they do not know what they do...