Nature is changing now.
Autumn followed by winter.
The quietness kills itself.
Everything is transitory.

The earthquake screams at the birds in Galil.
Dear Galil: you live on in my heart,
whether or not they want this.
Dear night: I feel your pain,
I am with you.
Dear night: your sad songs bore me.

Stars of the night: don’t be sad.
Birds of paradise sing dark songs for you.
Oh, if only I could sing like you.