It's a fashionista's nightmare... being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no place to go - and worse, no place to shop! But even with the hot sun beating down relentlessly through the fronds of a palm tree and salty seafoam ruining your suede mules, a girl's gotta keep her cool. So, every week I sit down with the fun and fabulous of Second Life to get the skinny on what would keep them cool out in the heat on some remote desert isle.

This week, I got the chance to whisk away the lovely Ms. Hibiscus Flossberg of Hi-Flo, The Hidden Jewel, to a cozy, sandy little spot, and find out just what she would take with her, if she were... lost.

For this design diva, her I-pod is a must, because, like yours truly, she'd be tingling for some tunes in no time flat. Paper and pens would be in her emergency pack too, for writing and drawing to keep her busy, along with any book by author Barbara Kingslover. As any true fashion expert knows, sunspots and wrinkles on your skin are a big no-no, and skin cancer is nothing to fool around with, so this beguiling beauty would tote along some sunblock, too, to take care of that high-quality skin. And, of course, who could go without matches to light a fire to keep away the chill in the evenings as the wind blows over the water? After all, unless you can bring along a summery studmuffin, you gotta have something to keep warm with!

Of course, you can't expect a gal to be completely alone out there! So, when I asked Ms. Flossberg what designer she would choose to be stranded with for some collaborative fun, she told me that she'd love to collaborate with Nicky Ree, because she adores her bold use of colour and rich textures. Of course, I don't think any of us fussy fashionistas would mind one bit if these two geniuses put a little something together! For now, it's just a dream... but there's always tomorrow!

जाने कैसी तलब जागी है
जाने किसका इन्तिज़ार है
बेज़ार-सा यह दिल मेरा
किसके लिए गुलज़ार है

आज ऐसा क्यों लग रहा है
नये-नये सब नज़ारें हैं
खिली-खिली महकी बहारें हैं
झीलों पर बहते शिकारें हैं

शबनमी रातों का यह चाँद
और उजली-उजली चाँदनी
आइनाए-दिल में कौन यार है
इश्क़ जिससे वजहसार है

बंजर ज़मीने-दिल से आज
उलझे हुए मखमली धारे हैं
खिली-खिली महकी बहारें हैं
झीलों पर बहते शिकारें हैं

© 2007 Copyright Emilio Mercado

A principios de los 80, la mayoría de las instalaciones todavía funcionaban aunque luego, lentamente, fueron entrando en la más pura decadencia. Se abandonaron las piscinas, las canchas y demás elementos, pasando la mayor parte de los edificios e infraestructuras a un estado de semiabandono. Actualmente, y tras varias discusiones, parte del complejo se rehabilitó como teatro y sala de exposiciones, se construirá además un hotel y se llevarán a cabo otras obras de restauración/adaptación que no vienen tampoco demasiado al caso en este momento (y que están detalladas en la Wiki, por si alguien tiene interés).

Mientras todo esto sucede y gran parte de la enorme mole sigue en obras, hay zonas que continuan desiertas, como las piscinas a las que aludía antes. Fue interesante visitarlas de nuevo este fin de semana junto con David, Dabo y Montse. Recordé, entre otras cosas, que en ellas mi padre aprendió a nadar hace ya la friolera de 22 años :D. Poco queda de todo aquello, de mis seis tacos y de aquel día de verano, pero antes de que definitivamente desaparezca la zona de baños con aquellos pocos recuerdos que conservamos de ella, o bien sufra una remodelación radical, nos decidimos a tomar alguna que otra foto. Ahí va mi pequeña aportación en forma de panorámica: son varias tomas de la 350D realizadas con el 17-40 f/4.0 L y unidas con el Ptgui, lo que da lugar a una imagen final de unos 66 por 32 cm a 300 ppp (un poco más de 30 megapíxeles). Si estáis interasados en analizar los detalles del lugar, no os perdáis la galería de David, con fotos muy interesantes y un procesado más agresivo que el de un servidor ;).

I usually check to see if I can verify the information I get from other sources. Oh, not the ones who do reprints, and there are plenty of those, but like stories about the same issue. And then I try to use the best one of those for my article. It isn't the best method, but since I'm not in Iraq it is all I have.

General Petraeus is one of those guys in the bush administration who will say what he's told to say. In this instance, he's been told to say the surge is working and the Iraqi troops just need more time. But is that the truth? No, it isn't. Far from being the truth, it is just more fodder for getting our Young men and Women killed. What do they matter so long as bush has his war? This administration should have been impeached years ago. It is simply another sign of how corrupt Washington has become!

Can you imagine looking back on your life and knowing that the world sees you as a liar? Can you imagine having your reputation destroyed because you stood with a despot? I'd hate to be General Petraeus at the end of his days. He will have much to regret, not the least of which will be all the lives he threw away.

From AlterNet I bring you this story about Iraq:

Don't Betray Us, General: Admit That Iraq Keeps Getting Worse, And That The Surge Failed

By Tom Engelhardt, TheNation.com. Posted April 8, 2008.

Gen. David Petraeus ought to level with the American public about the dire state of affairs in Iraq in his testimony to Congress this week.

They came, they saw, they deserted.

That, in short form, is the story of the recent Iraqi government "offensive" in Basra (and Baghdad). It took a few days, but the headlines on stories out of Iraq ("Can Iraq's Soldiers Fight?") now tell a grim tale and the information in them is worse yet. Stephen Farrell and James Glanz of the New York Times estimate that at least 1,000 Iraqi soldiers and policemen, or more than 4% of the force sent into Basra, "abandoned their posts" during the fighting, including "dozens of officers" and "at least two senior field commanders."

Other pieces offer even more devastating numbers. For instance, Sudarsan Raghavan and Ernesto Londoo of the Washington Post suggest that 30% of government troops had "abandoned the fight before a cease-fire was reached." Tina Susman of the Los Angeles Times offers 50% as an estimate for police desertions in the midst of battle in Baghdad's vast Sadr City slum, a stronghold of cleric Muqtada al-Sadr's Mahdi Army militia.

In other words, after years of intensive training by American advisors and an investment of $22 billion dollars, US military spokesmen are once again left trying to put the best face on a strategic disaster (from which they were rescued thanks to negotiations between Muqtada al-Sadr and advisors to Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, brokered in Iran by General Qassem Suleimani, a man on the U.S. Treasury Department's terrorist watch list). Think irony. "From what we understand," goes the lame American explanation, "the bulk of these [deserters] were from fairly fresh troops who had only just gotten out of basic training and were probably pushed into the fight too soon."

This week, with surge commander General David Petraeus back from Baghdad's ever redder, ever more dangerous "Green Zone," here are a few realities to keep in mind as he testifies before Congress:

1. The situation in Iraq is getting worse: Don't believe anyone who says otherwise. The surge-ified, "less violent" Iraq the general has presided over so confidently is, in fact, a chaotic, violent tinderbox of city states, proliferating militias armed to the teeth, competing regions armed to the teeth, and competing religious factions armed to the teeth. Worse yet, under Petraeus and Ambassador Ryan Crocker, the U.S. has been the great proliferator. It has armed and funded close to 100,000 Sunnis organized into militias reportedly intent on someday destroying "the Iranians" (i.e. the Maliki government). It has also supported Shiite militias (aka the Iraqi army). In Basra, it took sides in a churning Shiite civil war. As Nir Rosen summed matters up in a typically brilliant piece in the Nation, Baghdad today is but a set of "fiefdoms run by warlords and militiamen," a pattern the rest of the country emulates. "The Bush administration," he adds, "and the U.S. military have stopped talking of Iraq as a grand project of nation-building, and the U.S. media have dutifully done the same." Meanwhile, in the little noticed north, an Arab/Kurdish civil war over the oil-rich city of Kirkuk, and possibly Mosul as well, is brewing. This, reports Pepe Escobar of Asia Times, could be explosive. Think nightmare.

You will most definitely have to read the rest of the article from their website. I found their information compelling. Too bad our government thinks it has to be right when in reality it is looking worse than foolish. bush's reputation and that of his administration precedes him around the globe. I'm glad that I don't have his reputation.

I also noted the incongruities in the article such as the broker of the peace deal is on our terrorist watch list and from Iran. And yet the bush administration is still pushing the war agenda there too. This administration need to all go through a psych screening to see if they are even mentally stable enough to hold office. It is my belief that they are not capable of rational thought. It is the only logical explanation for the disinformation we are receiving and the Real ID, hidden prison camps inside the USA, Blackwater, etc.

And the bad news just keeps getting worse even though the bush administration says otherwise. By now I wonder if anyone believes that bastard. I also wonder if anyone in his administration has the guts to tell him just how unpopular he is? Grrrrrrrrrrrrr I know a spoiled little rich boy who needs a good spanking. A nice public one!

Next to traitor in the dictionary should be the name george walker bush. And next to that should be the name of dick cheney. Two worthless pieces of humanity who have dragged this nation into a war we cannot win, under policies that are worthless, with a congress undeserving of being called that. I'm not going to ask what can be worse because I don't think we've seen it yet.

The punch that knocks you out of the ring.

Rejection =

Laughing as it stares upon it's many killings.

Rejection =

The back that turns; the voice that's forever saying NO

Rejection =

The beast with whom to hell you must go.

Who can you trust,

When your friends always lie?

They either look at you in pity,

Or they pray you will die.

The ones who open up to you,

Later make you feel enclosed.

Rejection =

The trap that lies within our souls.

Eternally deserted.

Wrapped in deceit.

Rejection =

Keeps you crawling in the dirt.

Then swallows you whole.

]]> http://vinayprajapati.wordpress.com/?p=806 Mon, 18 Feb 2008 16:03:34 +0000 विनय प्रजापति http://vinayprajapati.wordpress.com/?p=806 तेरी चुप निगाहें व शर्मायी नज़रें
तेरे प्यार का तोहफ़ा हैं, मेरे लिए
एक बार तो कुछ कह दे सनम
तू एक बार तो हाँ कर दे मुझसे
ज़िन्दगी एक झमेला है मेरे लिए

तेरी मुस्कुराहटें तेरी सादी अदाएँ
तेरे प्यार का तोहफ़ा हैं मेरे लिए
परियों से भी कहीं ज़्यादा हसीं
खिलती कलियों-सी तू माहजबीं
ख़ुदा ने तुझे बनाया है मेरे लिए

तेरे सारे शिकवे वह सभी यादें
तेरे प्यार का तोहफ़ा हैं मेरे लिए
मुझे तेरा इन्तिज़ार था बरसों से
हम एक-दूजे के बने जनमों से
तुमने जनम लिया है मेरे लिए

आँखों में माहताब-सा चमकता है
तेरा चेहरा, तेरा चेहरा, तेरा चेहरा
मैं सहराँ-सहराँ भटकता हूँ तेरे लिए
तू एक बार तो हाँ कर दे मुझसे
ज़िन्दगी एक झमेला है मेरे लिए

जाने अन्जाने मुझसे कितनी गुस्ताखियाँ हो गयीं
हम क्यों समझ न पाये और आप दूर होती गयीं 
थोड़ी-थोड़ी दोस्ती न जाने कब मोहब्बत बन गयी
एक फूल खिला और सारी फ़िज़ा जन्नत हो गयी

हाल दिल का बताना तुमसे बहुत ही मुश्किल है
न जाने कितना, बेशुमार दर्द इसमें शामिल है

वही समझता है यह इश्क़ जो इश्क़ का मारा है
समझे पाये बहुत देर से हम, यह कच्चा सहारा है
पलकें भारी हो जाती हैं कोशिश करते हैं जागने की
कैसी ज़िन्दगी है ज़रूरत पड़ती है साँसें माँगने की

हाल दिल का बताना तुमसे बहुत ही मुश्किल है
न जाने कितना, बेशुमार दर्द इसमें शामिल है

इन अफ़सानों में अपना एक किरदार है
ज़ुबाँ से निकला हर लफ़्ज़ किरायेदार है
गुज़रती तारीख़ों में तेरी राह तकते हैं
यह फ़ैसला कैसे हो किस पे एतबार है

यह कोरे काग़ज़ करते हैं दिल की बात
जैसे यह कोरे हैं वैसे मेरे दिन-रात...

बैठते हैं जब अकेले यूँ तन्हाई में हम
एक ख़त लिखने की सोचते हैं तुम्हें हम
तभी एक आहट-सी कानों में जाती है
और फिर खिड़की से देखते हैं तुम्हें हम

अपनी मुलाक़ात कब मुकम्मल हुई  थी
दर्द मेरे दिल में बढ़ते रहे इफ़रात...

संवाद:
हर कोरा काग़ज़ यूँ फड़फड़ाता है
जैसे आवाज़ देकर हमें बुलाता है
एक तकलीफ़ दिल में उठती है
जब आपका ख़्याल हमें आता है

उसने इजाज़त नहीं दी है हमें
उन लम्हों को दोबारा पढ़ने की
गुज़रें है वह कभी इधर से
यह बात भुला देने भूलने की

मेरे दरवाज़े तक राह आती है
मगर खुलती है कहीं और यह
समझाते हैं कभी ख़ुद को हम
या भुला देते हैं भूल जाते हैं

यह बीते हुए लम्हों का शोर है
या तन्हाई के ग़म की ख़ामोशी
दिल को कुछ शोर जान पड़ता है
मगर वह कानों में क्यों नहीं

हम खोलते हैं उन पन्नों को
जिन पर तेरा नाम लिखा था
उड़ जाता है दिल से दर्द वह
जो ख़ुद कभी ख़ुद में सना था

क़ातिल वह मेरे दिल का होगा
कब यह हमसे उसने कहा था
खुल जायेगा वह ज़ख़्म फिर से
जो हमने मुद्दत में सिला था

यह बीते हुए लम्हों का शोर है
या तन्हाई के ग़म की ख़ामोशी
दिल को कुछ शोर जान पड़ता है
मगर वह कानों में क्यों नहीं

तुम फिर क्यों मेरी निगाहों में
भर आये आँसू
क्या कोई दर्द हुआ दिल में
या फिर वह तस्वीर मिल गयी
यह तो बताये कोई
मुझे तू क्यों याद आती है?

जब से भूल जाना चाहा तुमको
तेरी याद और भी आती है

चाँद है आसमाँ पर, ज़मीं पर नहीं
बस बात इतनी है जो मुझे तुमसे
दूर नहीं जाने देती है आँसू,
क्या हुआ ऐसा? गुल खिल गये
जो दिए जल गये
क्या यह सब ख़ाब है?
मुझे तू नज़र आती हैं...

जब से भूल जाना चाहा तुमको
तेरी याद और भी आती है

निगाहों में, नज़ारों में, तू बेवफ़ा
सपनों से दूर जा, न याद आ

पास तो बहुत थे वह
फिर भी न कर पाये दिल की बात
वह दिन थे कितने हसीं
जब गुज़र रही थी उजालों से रात

दो लफ़्ज़ों में बयाँ कर सकते थे
हम अपने दिल की बात
जाने वह कौन घड़ी थी
जब वह छोड़ गये साथ

निगाहों में थे सारे इशारे
इशारों में थी अपने दिल की बात
कहने को बहुत था
न कह पाये हम दिल के जज़्बात

दो लफ़्ज़ों में बयाँ कर सकते थे
हम अपने दिल की बात
मिले कहाँ हम कभी फिर
जो कर पाते दिल की बात

चले गये वापस हसीन मौसम
गिर गये पेड़ों से सारे पात
जाने कब वह आयेंगे वापस फिर
जाने कहाँ होगी उनसे मुलाक़ात

दो लफ़्ज़ों में बयाँ कर सकते थे
हम अपने दिल की बात...

I am traveling northwards, overland, through a forest. I come to a creek that has been changed into a canal and moat. On the other side is the wall of a deserted castle. I move in. It has huge stone rooms, but is unfurnished. Later some other join me and we occupy about 5 rooms in a small part of the castle. We have simple furnishings in the large rooms. The roofs are particularly tall at about 30 feet. 

बेवफ़ा गर वह होता दर्द शायद कम होता
उसकी वफ़ा का भेद यूँ खुलेगा यह न जानते थे

एक-एक साँस से दबके हूक पत्थर हो गयी
संगे-शरर से जल जायेंगे यह न जानते थे

हमें ज़ब्रो-ज़ोर से किसने ठगा सरे-राह
दोस्ती करके ठगे जायेंगे यह न जानते थे

देख तो 'वफ़ा' अपने ख़ाली वीरान दिल में
दाग़ वही सुलगता है जिसको अपना जानते थे

– James Steerforth (© 2007)

Note
All freshly seen, heard, felt.

The cards lie fallen, scattered in a heap,
Waiting for their shepherd, like lost sheep,
Alas, the shepherd thirsts after an imaginary stream,
And will only get back to them at the end of this dream.

The road seems crooked, and gets even more winding,
And the end seems even farther, every new morning,
With many bylanes to tempt those that wander,
And a scorching sand to make any stream meander.

While others laughed away and chased butterflies,
You followed the path, the direction the eagle flies,
While others stopped to enjoy their dreams of another day,
You kept walking, kicking little stones out of your way.

Pity and hope, your two eyes, watched them play,
Perhaps that joy would be yours some day,
If only you persevered and worked harder each day,
Ahead lay all the games that you and life could play.

You think of those who wish to see you succeed,
And those for whose sake you need to succeed,
And wish they stand beside you when that day does arrive,
To share with you, the feeling of truly being alive.

You never understood why the day begins with a yawn,
Because for you, it signified the hopes lurking in the dawn,
When the days get weary, and the world gets tired,
You are just getting ready to perform, all fired.

You close your eyes and begin your life's greatest performance,
And strain your ears for the applause from the audience,
Hearing none, you open your eyes to an empty hall,
Happy maybe, that no one was around to see the tear fall.

You sacrificed an entire lifetime for this one moment,
And nobody was present to appreciate how every second was spent,
In that moment, you see the sacrifice, the lifetime all gone,
But wipe away the tear, because you know the show must go on.

You brave the wind, brave the frost, every single day,
Freezing to death, you continue the climb, day after day,
After what seems eternity, you reach the much coveted peak,
And are so dumbstruck, the joy makes you forget how to speak.

Wishing you could stay forever, you begin to descend,
Wishing, all this happiness, there was a better way to spend,
But the descent is not a result of your boredom with conquest,
They are the first steps towards your search for a new quest.

Caught by surprise, your face begins to betray the strain,
Of years of your effort suddenly going down the drain,
You sink into an abyss, and begin to revel in your own pain,
And you realise, it will be many years before you smile again.

Yet you fake some, suppress some and get on with life,
For, stagnation is one facet, you never believed about life,
There will be many other days, when success knocks again,
But it can't bring back those, that death took away in disdain.

Bitterness sets in, they seem to have deserted you for eternity,
Unable to see your suffering till you overcome its futility,
You wish they could wait to see you outstretch your hand,
And grow from being another of those grains of sand.

Thus you entered the world, your back against the wall,
And prepared yourself to bear someone else's fall,
Being a fighter, you can always get up and walk,
Unlike those crippled by rumour and gossip, mere talk.

A world where they sized up your life, by how much it was worth,
Where, for a good enough bargain, they would sell the earth,
You get in knee-deep, and wade through its filth,
Wary of drowning, and becoming one with the filth.

The feet are tired, but the mind relentlessly pushes them forward,
When the mind gets tired, your objective propels it onward,
Many milestones pass by, but the appreciation takes longer,
For, these are people, who feed you for last year's hunger.

Every now and then, you bask in the limelight,
Before someone else's success steals the spotlight,
Soon you will fade out of people's lives, out of their sight,
But you refuse to die down, to give up without a fight.

But the allure of fame, of achievement, no longer seems to work,
And the potion of disenchantment slowly begins its work,
The warm fires of discontent begin to burn in your heart,
And that is when everything you worked for, starts falling apart.

When the laughter, the joy, belongs to somebody else's world,
You begin to feel and become, an alien in your own world,
When the sunshine, the rainfall, falls on everybody else's land,
You desperately begin to feel like disowning your own land.

When survival becomes the sole yardstick of the living,
And you find yourself no longer capable of giving,
You wonder to yourself if it is really worth living,
And whether another life would be more forgiving.

But what about your companions, those now walking with you,
Those who understood you, those who believed in you,
Will you walk away from their memories, away from their lives?
And live you life alone, leaving them searching for alternate lives?

Having walked this path, touching their hearts, with your life's song,
You should atleast expect, that forever, they will walk along,
They will walk with you, till you get rid of this guilt,
Walk with you, till you get back, to the house you once built.

The house has fallen, but the cards still exist,
Intact as a test, for those who persist,
Or maybe as a chance, to build it again, better,
Instead of crying over what has gone bitter.

You roll up your sleeves to once again demonstrate,
The never-ending battle of humans against fate,
You slog through the night, to open its doors to sunrise,
And show the world, the fabled human spirit, of enterprise.

This one is dedicated to Sukanya, who in my terms is a 'survivor' for those that can understand the term in the sense that i mean it in. When you go through the entire range of experiences that life has to offer, you tend to remember the scars than the victories, because the scars are visible whereas victory is not. It is this paradox that bogs down a number of achievers into mediocrity. It is this paradox that clips your wings when you need to fly that one last time.

Some people look further into the scars and find the victories that caused them, and the failures that enriched them. These are the ones that achieve more out of life than the mediocre ones can in a hundred lifetimes. But that makes them neither immortal nor immune to the vagaries of time and the tricks of the mind.

Sometimes they need to be reminded of the past to get on with a future that is more promising than all the past combined was. Once clear about that fact, they pick up the pieces and get to work. The house of cards was symbolic of the experiences we all have in life. They all differ in nature like the faces and figures on the cards. Not everyday does one get a joker, and not everyone gets an ace everyday. It is this understanding that despite not getting the winning card, life is a card game where luck is not the only aide, and that hard work can take you to farther places than luck can, that fuels the enterprising.

The enterprising fall more number of times and fail more number of times than the prudent and risk-averse person, but in the end, the enterprising with a fuller and richer experience of life than the conservative. This poem is about one such enterprising person asking her to use the fallen house of cards as a chance to build it again in a more beautiful manner with a lot more wonderful experiences that the previous ones, and understand, that there are people everywhere who are willing to help her rebuild, even if only by standing by and saying an encouraging word, because everybody must build their own house of life.

(got lots more to say, will get back to this when i find more time).

IMG_7215.JPG

Originally uploaded by Tokenhippygirl

The boats in this picture actually get used. So do some of the rides, like this ferris wheel. But the jug of tea building, as well as some of the other areas of the park, are long closed and falling into disrepair.

जब भी बैठता है
वो यारों के साथ तन्हा बैठता है
उसकी यारी इक ख़ता निकली
पास जिसके भी गया वो रूठ गया

लहर इक ‘विनय’
टकराया जो पत्थर से टूट गया

नाचीज़ खु़द को खा़स समझ बैठा
‘वो’ अजनबी पेश रहा
जब दिल की बात ज़ुबाँ पर लाया
मरासिम टूट गया…

जब भी निकला आगे
उसके हाथों से एक हाथ छूट गया

ग़म क्या थे?
अफ़सोस किस बात का करता वह
जब जी में आया उसके
खु़द का दोस्त बनके खु़द से रूठ गया

लहर इक ‘विनय’
टकराया जो पत्थर से टूट गया
जब भी निकला आगे
उसके हाथों से एक हाथ छूट गया

...

i wrote this one kind of as a pastiche of drive-by observation whippet-snippets while driving down the length of santa monica boulevard in the midde of the night about a year ago... which is a semi-surreal experience i'd highly recommend to anyone...

DESERTED LOS ANGELES AT 2:30am

405 lively but flowing free
like a river it paved
the way
santa monica blvd wide open

temple bar--billie jean

zanzibar--nice beats, too many dress-too-impress types, moving on
took smb all the way to sunset

little temple--closed--milling outside, graph, sales.

before that, midnight tacos--busy

before that, smb @ ?--PACKED with cleancut drunken hordes, and a few men embracing not in a drunken way

suddenly, pawn shop. then "nude adult" joints. this is where it changes.
salvadorean cuisine. everything falling apart
with many small businesses stuck in the cracks

outside little temple--looks like a "residential" area. just enough so i feel i shouldn't piss in a corner here.
the smell of urine hangs over the whole neighbourhood. perfect level of seediness, with the replete old guy with headphones cliché, a shopping cart on the move here and there.

it took roughly a half hour to get from wilshire & 10th to here. the cool sketchy area's been going for a while. seemed like it could just keep going in any arbitrary direction. but as soon as i turned the corner onto sunset, the giant robot store told me the funk begins and ends here.

steepest slope ever--

...

As the trees give a shiver, shaking off flies.

Dusty light fails to enlighten the situation

The deserted street goads the sun to rise.

A slow, soundless and sinister breeze

Strokes fear gently behind the ears.

Though within this murderous midnight scene

An essence of peace appears.

No sunlight scorches the soil or burns the eyes,

No creature disturbs the dew,

Nothing steals silence’s golden ring,

No-one’s tasted the following day’s brew.

The dark velvet above, protects us all

From events that yesterday may recall.

And engraved in the emotion of the pre-dawn

Is the wording that states: a new day is born.