The heathwort  dried in my voice,

The lullaby ivy in my throat,

I am leaving and you send your words after  me- you are mine!,

You know, that I always return.

I watch,

The migrating birds – the sign of excess-

The banal plot- when you are leaving you keep your motherland,

When you are coming you are losing it.

I am leaving the house empty without you...

When I am leaving I am extinguishing the golden fish,

I would leave them flickering-

On the ceiling and the bottom of the sea-

For you to return here.