There is nothing to be afraid of, br it is only the wind br changing to the east, it is only br your father the thunder br your mother the rain br br In this country of water br with its beige moon damp as a mushroom, br its drowned stumps and long birds br that swim, where the moss grows br on all sides of the trees br and your shadow is not your shadow br but your reflection, br br your true parents disappear br when the curtain covers your door. br We are the others, br the ones from under the lake br who stand silently beside your bed br with our heads of darkness. br We have come to cover you br with red wool, br with our tears and distant whipers. br br You rock in the rain's arms br the chilly ark of your sleep, br while we wait, your night br father and mother br with our cold hands and dead flashlight, br knowing we are only br the wavering shadows thrown br by one candle, in this echo br you will hear twenty years later.