Paths are hot on my trail br And eyes...... as always they do...... br Behind, far behind br Are nailed to apertures in the door. br br My mom has furrows br Criss-crossed on her time-worn face br And like a dot sans word br Unaware of my own import br I am gaoled in the abdomen br Of starving books. br br If one were to look br Into sisters' eyes at the moment of parting br One would know br How deserts are changed into oceans. br br Do you remember br You had said at separation br When the dreams of journey br Spring forth from lines of the palm br To become the fate of my feet br Two eyes......as always they do...... br Behind, far behind br Will be nailed to the apertures in the door. br br And that moment br (you had said) br Will be the last link in our contact. br br (1980, Translated By Dr.