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.