The Birch Tree

Cover me with the haze of Fragmented years, Let me sleep through this autumn Where rains greedily devour Dying leaves, And streams flow into the rotten silence. Clothe me with the moss Which grew in the wrinkles of the forehead, Make me senseless for the cruel fingers of the northerly wind, And the silver which dwells On Venus Hill, Just leave my eyes naked To count in them rings of the birch tree, Which cut down Our unmeasurable distance.