Somehow

Those who discovered life and singing,

first lovers rather

Who, by letting go

Enough is -supposed to be enough,

Tracing roots up to the Point

There is no rhymers’ pension around;

other casts away Indians

and more,

First couples!

A strange, mixed-up, charming complexity

dots of green behind the Sahara,

Vanish under the twinkling night

Growing huge everyone by its own, to

Whence music and mathematics

Belong to common sense too, and

A musical instrument may be,

a totem pole, somehow.