I don’t know if you believe in blessings,
In your New Year’s in particular.
And a new talk was opened in me,
Poems are constantly getting words.

It is difficult to restrain thoughts that are important
They run free, they rush out.
Impatient, hot, quick-witted, timid.
Where they were stacked, they no longer lie.

Sow grain, maybe something will yield.
They sowed in me — I gathered in the grains.
Or maybe fate will reward me?
Maybe I’ll put it where I took it.