At times, by early afternoon,
When sun is warming up her room
She sits alone in the chair of reddish plush.
Watching the air that’s being pierced by the beam
Of yellow starlight, makes her dream…
The air holds not only dust
That flies at random quiet commotion.
She looks through it, as one would do
Through those bright patterns. Fancy notions
Concealed in them. In the same way
She makes her eyes to reach the focus
Beyond the very air and…
The outer locus full of life of peaceful nature
Meets her there. And in the depth of nowhere
Free of the troubles and rancor
Her soul finds refuge, and succor