My nights are now longer,
dreams do not come soon,
and my sleeps are shorter
since every second is noon.

But I feel nothing causing pain.
I enjoy the rhythm of my words
varying in its effect on the brain
and becoming sharp like swords.

Inspiration rises from intolerance
to tranquillizers like sleeping pills.
Words sprout from the fragrance
of all the silence that never kills.

It is difficult to sleep and dream,
but surely easy to think and write,
when you notice nobody scream
and the mind has beauty at night.

Yogyakarta, 9 March 2005