I am scared to meet you again,
but I seek you on moonlit streets.
I stare at the sky like I’m eight
and on clouds see your name writ.

Among the animated corpses
that walk here, there and back
in their never-ending torpor,
I feel like I’m only a fake.

They call my name and welcome me,
but I don’t remember we met.
The funeral day is now here;
it could be me who is dead.

The clouds are full with rain,
and it comes down on the house of god.
I know that you’re near…
But no, not here. Above.