The voice came to an end. At dawn
when I heard it in a bird cage
I did not know
what the voice was after.

The image vanished. At dusk
when I saw it in a rescue boat
I did not know
what gave birth to its shadow.

When that voice forms our sky
after flying out of the bird cage,
when its shadow shapes our horizon
by crushing the rescue boat,

My thirst is at the height of the day