Round and round , I come back
To the same round -round stuff.
A door revolves to a train dream
A train always missed in station
And a child running in the grass .
A hillock waits at its vernal end .
Your mountain is my mountain
Your grass mine,your sky mine
Your round is me ,my stomach.
I am a child of your mountain.
I am ocher-running, vertiginous,
A knowledge gathering leaves.
My leaves fall by all time wind
A door revolves to train dream.