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I am very hungry and you have paneer,

spices, water, and your lips to feed me

I don’t own anything else but my breath,

take it away with songs and words, slowly.

It is true, you are the black gold of the sun.

Old interchange of cacao and promises

Since your voice is that ancient currency

your laughter is the silent payment

Give me your eyes and I’ll give you my life.

I am the poorest beggar - you are the rich land

And your answer:

That day you saw the sparrow king,
Not a courtier of crumbs on the ground
Only when it flew, did I see-
He wore the whole sky as his crown.

-GBK