The heather honey dried up in my voice,

the lullaby ivy in my throat.

I am leaving followed by your words – you are mine!

As you know, I would always return.

I watch migrating birds fly in formation.

That old story – when you leave, your motherland leaves with you,

when you return, it is lost to you. 

The house is empty without you.

I extinguish the golden fish when I depart.

I would leave them flickering – 

on the ceiling and the ocean floor – 

so you would return.