"When there is nothing left
But desert, sand, and wind
When we’ve torn away the world’s clothes
Carefully shaved every earthly hair
When the valley, nude like a belly
Is split by the noon sun and the midnight freeze
When Nature’s lost her nature
And earth, like a sphere of leather
Tanned and worn, drying on a time line
Is the last domain of horsemen
Men, erected between dog and god
Will keep grasping for the breath they’re short of
Their lungs learning to sort out the sand
inextricably mixed with the burning air
Water will be gold, and gold mud
And the riders of dead horses
Like deadly peripatetics with dreams of gallops
Will be the last to think the world
They’ll just have to reinvent it all
By means of the void, the silence, the desert
And take part in this great nudity
lying on the ground, against the skin of the world."