top of page


In the woods the summer dies.

It howles and whistles as broken dignity,

such is the night of the autumn equinox.

The church bells provide us

with a shallow feeling

of our existence echoing through our souls and teeth.

We walk and we sleep without talking,

we´ve replaced the talking with the suffocating breathing

that I had not known,

not even in the darkest times.

Forest is such a suitable place

for a lady like myself.

I lick my wounds among the wolves,

sprinkle the salt to protect me.

I feel fine, so accomplished.

I´ve given up on all common ideas,

my bed is cold and austere.

I wake up as soldiers do,

I march wherever the universe decides,

I have no wishes of my own.

Maybe just to always walk

among the equinox trees in the night.

No need to talk, because words fall

as apples from the trees.

They make a hole in the ground,

in my soul.


bottom of page