A life at the end of the road, a gravel path 
leading from somewhere to nowhere;
I watch myself watch myself
smiling as the dust settles,
the spring bulbs emerge from the frozen
and the summer meadows bloom. 
I would be happy there, in the other world,
in their world …
meandering through the pines 
and fir forests, golden berries of clouds
and golden mushrooms hiding;
I would be content there
at the end of a road 
— leading nowhere.