If you were me,
you would have known;
imbecile to execute,
in the field of buried corn.

A heap of stones,
the carpet to be torn;
in the trace of water,
a rose stem with thorn.

An abandoned letter,
a game without a pawn;
visibility of my eyes,
till the end of the dawn.

Only if you were me,
you would have known;
the crackle of my voice,
was more than just a moan.