Mr. Manyana
(a fairy-tale About Mr. Manyana and Mrs. Hereona)

 The days are like a teaspoon in hand
 Heaping
 Like stone which chips leap
 As if from a chisel
 Like thin hair
 Like a fragile house - built from happenstance
 The days do not remenber themselves
 
 The days are nevertroubled with
 When to go - when to stay
 They are dust leaping into the air
 Like eaglets
 Like traitorous ice
 Like a stern frame - built from trust
 The days aren´t surprised with themselves
 They aren´t surprised!