EAST OF THE SUN


    Packed are my trunks to the brink


    With dreams and sleepless eyes


    Still, the mind''s eye wants to think


    And thus wants to sever the ties


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    That bind the will to my love


    East of the Sun.


    In the land of plentiful pleasures,


    The Buddha hovers on eaters of lotus


    His lips dare not to lose focus


    From spread dishes of treasure.


    That build the road to be followed


    North of the Sun.


    In Winn''s pages of state


    The hero''s feet the desert follow


    Manat, the third, now all prostrate!


    But still the crescent feels hollow,


    Her edges sinking deep


    West of the Sun.


    The topic''s thundering storm


    Tears words to pieces and thunders


    Remains the body yet born


    In seas and landlocked blunders.


    Yet I rule in everlasting burning


    South of the Sun