Perfect nonchalance

days without number, tormenting sacrifices
gather around the fire
sit in circles with your lyre
fallen leaves plenty
honey pot empty
A red scarf tamed the bull
trapped, days without number
“I’m always going home. Always going to my father’s house”.
Sing little bird sing to the mountains.
Search for joy in the jungles.
ecstasy belongs to the one;
among them the one: who finds the sun.