From a leased space to another it moves,
The soul perches, pining for mountainous hues,
Dwells in castles and bleeding towns,
Tasting tears and mending frowns.
Apropos it searches not for dunes,
Its eye hurts and braves misfortunes,
It searches for a distant relief,
Knowing that it’s but a mirage and sore belief
Though searching is never a refuge,
The lusty creed towers too huge,
Showing from behind the veil,
But, it always seeks for the grail.
Alas! The dainty soul,
Wouldn’t belong to any pole,
No patch or sky, no south, no mighty north;
Poor soul, shall ever be seeking forth.
