The sound of rain reaches my nostrils.
Hope leaps forever. Tend to my cut soul.
I am bleeding like a river. The river is drowning.
A cat has walked across the forbidden lawn.
The robot slowly takes his first step-he is like
a young actor, being reborn. The movement is slow.
I am slow, too. The trees are bending in the hurricane.
Palm trees, I think they are, and their leaves
wave in the wind. Tell me, o potter, where do you go?
I haven't found a way out of the long mile. Here I go.
Walking steadily on my forepaws. The trees are bending,
I bend back.