From a series of poems written during my stay in the Black Forest.
Whenever I fly
over the mountains
northbound,
whatever viewpoint
facing the Alps
I find myself on,
my eyes are always
drawn toward
the Three.
Whenever I look
up to the sky
on winter nights,
from whatever place
dark enough,
nose to the stars,
my eyes are always
drawn toward
the Three.
Thieves of my gaze.
Alnilam shines bright,
as the Monk shields
the innocent Virgin
from the merciless one.
O Maiden,
I pray thy dress
remain as white
in years to come.
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