A man walks with a door
along the city street;
he is looking for its house.
He has dreamt
of his woman, children and friends
coming in through the door.
Now he sees a whole world
passing through this door
of his never-built house:
men, vehicles, trees,
beasts, birds, everything.
And the door, its dream
rising above the earth,
longs to be the golden door of heaven,
imagines clouds, rainbows,
demons, fairies and saints
passing through it.
But it is the owner of hell
who awaits the door.
Now it just yearns
to be a tree, full of foliage
swaying in the breeze,
just to provide some shade
to its homeless hauler.
A man walks with a door
along the city street;
a star walks with him.
along the city street;
he is looking for its house.
He has dreamt
of his woman, children and friends
coming in through the door.
Now he sees a whole world
passing through this door
of his never-built house:
men, vehicles, trees,
beasts, birds, everything.
And the door, its dream
rising above the earth,
longs to be the golden door of heaven,
imagines clouds, rainbows,
demons, fairies and saints
passing through it.
But it is the owner of hell
who awaits the door.
Now it just yearns
to be a tree, full of foliage
swaying in the breeze,
just to provide some shade
to its homeless hauler.
A man walks with a door
along the city street;
a star walks with him.
