How many women have already spotted their first gray hair
in the cold eyes of the mirror?
The dream has ended,
we enter into reality.
Or perhaps it’s the other way around?
The world becomes clear and white;
the water freezes
a blue shard of ice
becomes our ship.
We stretch out our hands to red horizons –
and just as our sisters
in the ocean depths,
the medusae,
glow bright and light up their own ways –
so shall we here on the surface,
through the nights and days,
glow bright and light up our own ways.