Love was only alienation In the beginning, I loved the earth Why was I not sand, why I was not mud Why was I not mixed with the earth Why was I not a root hidden in the earth Why was I not a river Traversing the length and breadth of the earth Why was I not a waterspring Flowing from the depths of the earth. Why was I not a piece of a mountain To be steady and surmounting. Who could load my homeland on my bare shoulders? Who could cut me into shreds? And give me the address of death? I have dreams Dreams have me They carry me away They take me back to the playground of my childhood They turn me into a handful of sand Into a stone, a drop in a river, A stream, A song, A red mark on the forehead of a towering mountain A pen in the hands of a pupil, A spade in the hands of a peasant, A rose on the breast of a lover. I dream, I dream Every night I dream Big dreams, little dreams Red, green and white dreams Dark and shiny dreams Misty and wounded dreams Hungry dreams Martyred dreams Love was alienation, no more Love was a hungry dream, no more Love was a martyred dream, no more In the beginning I loved the sand Why was not I a handful of sand? I wish I were a piece of a mountain Steady, surviving, surmounting.