10-12-2003, Wysoka Kamieńska.
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IT IS A MELANCHOLY OF MY OWN
WOVEN OUT FROM MY WORLD
OUT OF ALL THAT DID NOT HAPPEN
ALL THAT WAS DONE
OUT OF PATHS ACROSS FIELDS
OUT OF HANGING BRANCHES OF HAZEL
THAT HIT THE FACE
OUT OF TANGLED GRAVEYARDS OF BLACKBERRIES
OUT OF THE WHITENESS OF SNOWS
OUT OF HEAVY BIRDS
A MELANCHOLY OF MY OWN
LIKE THE FACE UNDESERVED, IMPOSSIBLE TO TEAR OFF