My soul has become as soft as a lamp-lit street.
The city breezes it, blowing me into a ghost—
Singing me its dark dirge all day and all night
Till I feel the endless beat.
I hear it ring through rain, distant hooves in time
That find my soul inside the city park, still.
The grass worn with the feet of shameless lovers:
A match is struck in the kissing dark.
The moon comes out to me, pale with sleep.
My heart is tired of the sound of raucous voices:
They shout from the slums, from crowded places;
Their tunes a hurdy-gurdy laughter and lust.
Blow me all night. Blow me long into a ghost…
I want to walk and count every single streetlight
One by one that appears to my lonely soul—
I want to count them, until there are no more.