Cloudless
Cloudless
by André Steinbach
Over the desert,
lingers cloudless
an empty sky,
purposeful,
scorching,
withers the sun the sands.
Unreal the colours,
from blue to cream,
where shadows play
and sun-rays
paint their solid pictures.
I am crossing the dunes,
breathless,
like a last traveler,
with an uncertain future,
fearless
and without haste.
At the horizon
a fata morgana,
a dark hull,
white flying sails,
spread into endless sands,
melting away
in a vibrating heat.
A permanent up and down,
ridges,
blown away with the breeze,
valleys of dunes,
portrayed by the winds,
firm views,
far up to the horizon.
Like dreams of fire and sand,
petrified in the evening light,
red-hot.
And only the wind scatters
the muffled sound
of my steps.
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