The cacti say I don't have a prairie
Of ever reaching you
My arms are opened out so wide
I've got to find you flying there
But I know my hopes are mountain
Knowing that they need the evening sky to bleed
That I will be given
A chance to be riven
In the quiver of your love
To be so many pieces
That you'd think my sign is Pisces
I fill your heart with fishes
While I'm acting out my wishes
I'm alive...I am the arrow
In the quiver of your love
Shoot me to the farthest reaches
Even to the shore
Let's bolt into the creases
Make this greening our delight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem